


As the Mind Wanders

by Shyaway95, teslatempest



Series: To Save the Things We Love [10]
Category: Naruto
Genre: (sometimes), Angst, But he's trying, Character Development, Everything has a Price, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Kakashi is a good parent and a badass, LIKE ALL THE TIME, Obito is a Stalker, Obito is so damn dramatic, Obito makes some painful realizations, Obito's head is a scary place, Some really really dark moments, Uchiha Obito-centric, WARNING: READ AN, and he can be So Damn Petty, cute kid moments, denial is not just a river in egypt, non-reliable character, sorry about the whiplash!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shyaway95/pseuds/Shyaway95, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teslatempest/pseuds/teslatempest
Summary: It was stupid. If he got caught, if the pattern was noticed, if someone realized what he was doing, everything would be for naught.And yet he couldn’t stay away.(This is part of a series, please read the rest first or you'll be confused!)





	1. Collapse

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally here!!! This installment actually got so big that we split it into two parts -- hence the 2 chapters for this particular story. Both sections also had different tones/focus, so we felt it best to split them for that reason as well. (We're not kidding. Chapter two isn't even done yet and, before we split into two chapters, the document was 61 pages long. hElP uS). The next chapter should be up soon-ish (for us, haha, so maybe around 2 months? That’s our current timeline).
> 
> Obito… is a stubborn one (and very seriously in denial about Feelings). Although that might be the typical condition of Uchihas. Even so, Obito is on the more extreme end of the dramatic XD Obito’s brain is a scary place to be in and we didn’t realize how many issues he had until we dug into this installment. It’s fairly dark in places so, uh, enjoy? 
> 
> Also, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING in this one -- there is a scene describing some nasty war crimes from “Obito was in the backwoods of the Land of Grass” line to the “What had he just done?” line. Parts of it are graphic. We are not taking the piss here, the depiction of war crimes isn’t something we wrote about lightly. If you are concerned, we will have a non-graphic summary in the ending author’s notes, but please take care of yourself! 
> 
> Also, our beta was swamped and only had time to give this a cursory sweep for errors. If you see any, let us know! Dream will do a more complete job once chapter two is posted (send them love and encouragement, guys, they have it rough right now).
> 
> Last note -- this is part of a series, and we really recommend going back and reading the earlier installments, because otherwise it really won’t make sense. Enjoy! 
> 
> -Shy & Tes

_ “If you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders.” _

**— Vi Keeland**

**Present**

~

It was stupid. If he got caught, if the pattern was noticed, if someone realized what he was doing, everything would be for naught.

And yet he couldn’t stay away.

Every free moment Obito could spare was spent at the clearing, watching Kouichi live his life and continue to grow. 

Obito was determined to know his son despite the limitations set in place by his own plans. Kouichi was _ his, _ not only by blood but also by right. Kakashi had not denied their connection, had encouraged it even, constantly telling Kouichi tales from their genin days whenever the boy grew curious about his father. Obito was surprised at how much Kakashi seemed to remember about the useless boy he’d been, but he was too focused on cataloguing Kouichi’s reactions to the stories to pay it much attention.

The boy seemed to think his father was a kind and gentle soul, if a bit of an idiot, which was… fair, Obito supposed. After all, Obito had been a truly colossal idiot until Madara had pried his eyes open to the truth of the world.

The point was that Obito wasn’t being kept a secret from his son, and so the boy was his to get to know.

Kouichi was an early riser, a trait he’d most definitely inherited from his mother as Obito could still remember the great lengths his own parents had been forced to go to get Obito’s grumpy ass out of bed as a child. Obito often found the boy sneaking out through his window as the sun was just barely edging over the horizon. It wasn’t, Obito knew, because Kakashi would forbid it or even that he was unaware of what their son was doing -- the man himself had usually been awake for a couple of hours by the time Kouichi rolled out of bed -- but because Kouichi loved to fling himself bodily from the ledge to tumble down the slope just beneath.

That didn’t stop Obito from damn near having a heart attack the first time he witnessed it. 

The boy was also orderly, insisting that everything had its place, and he would huff and puff whenever a visiting Maito or Sarutobi put something back incorrectly before fixing it himself, staring pointedly at the offending party while doing so. Obito suspected that they did it on purpose just to mess with the boy, and he _ knew _ that Kakashi would move things around on purpose just to see how long it would take for Kouichi to notice.

It was a harmless situational awareness exercise that Obito full-heartedly endorsed.

It was this observation, and the sudden need to be involved in some way, that spurred Obito into taking initiative.

Kouichi had proven to be something of a magpie, a trait he unknowingly shared with Obito. He’d gained the habit from his own father, who had been constantly bringing home mementos from his missions to share with his wife and son. Where Kouichi had picked up the behavior, Obito wasn’t sure, though he assumed it had something to do with the lack of socialization. 

Either way, it had inspired Obito’s plan.

The idea had come to him while he was neck-deep in stirring up discord in the absolute clusterfuck that was Grass Country politics. He’d finished his business as quickly as he was able, too excited to give the task the attention it truly deserved, before rushing to one of his older hideouts deep in the forest separating Frost Country from the Land of Hot Water. 

There, hidden inside an old trunk, was a small box of knick-knacks. 

They weren’t anything too special, in the grand scheme of things. A small, ceramic plate that had once been painted with a beautiful blue bird, much of which had been chipped off through exposure; a few carvings made from the bones of the Great Youkai by a man who lived in the Land of Rice Fields; and a broken obsidian dagger. 

Each one held a story and history that Obito was both fascinated by and unsure of, even all these years later. Who owned them? Were they made for someone special or just to be sold? Why had they been left behind? 

He trailed his fingers over each item gently, letting his mind turn the questions over and over again, before resting his hand on the item he’d come for. It was the smallest of the bunch, rounded by time and constant handling, but it was Obito’s favorite in this particular stash. He held the arrowhead delicately as he brought it up into the fading sunlight, twisting it back and forth to check its integrity. It wasn’t much to look at, honestly. It was too old to be made of metal or to be of any real practical use, but the stone used in its construction had a pretty blue streak running through the center that caught the light beautifully.

It was perfect.

~

It was several weeks before Obito could enact his plan. He had to wait for just the right conditions to avoid suspicion. Kouichi’s watcher had to be present but distracted and busy, complacent about the boy’s safety and worried about other things. The most likely candidates were either Maito or the Sandaime. Seeing as they were either an active shinobi or the actual Hokage himself, they had no lack of bureaucratic bullshit to work through.

The most important factor, however, was that Kakashi would be nowhere nearby. Preferably, he’d be in an entirely different country. Under no circumstances was Obito willing to attempt contact with his son while the boy's mother was nearby. The mere idea of Kakashi catching on, catching _ him, _made Obito’s chest constrict so hard that he thought he might pass out. So no, no, that was just… not an option.

So it took nearly four and a half weeks before Obito could attempt to contact his son for what would be, technically speaking, the second time. 

Kouichi was out wandering the forest with his usual enthusiasm, the Sandaime sitting contentedly back at the cabin, drinking tea and sorting through literal piles of paperwork. Obito couldn't help but snort when he realized that the Hokage the councilors were ranting at back in Konoha was nothing but a particularly strong shadow clone. The old fool hadn't lost his touch entirely if he was still playing tricks like that.

Kouichi was running around like only a hyper toddler could, bouncing off trees and crawling through mud, chasing bugs and small mammals as if he was one of his young summons. _ A puppy with big paws, indeed, _ he thought dryly. 

Obito bid his time, waiting until the moment when Kouichi began to get bored with his explorations, before he made his move.

It took less than a breath to create a tiny genjutsu flower, the same type that he’d used all those months ago to distract the boy after he’d almost been attacked by the mountain lion. The kid was immediately riveted, a bright smile creeping across his face as he once again leaped forward to swipe his small fingers through the illusion. 

Obito couldn’t suppress his own grin as he flicked a stone just in front of Kouichi’s nose, using a bit of chakra to enhance its speed to make sure that it hit a tree hard enough to chip off a good chunk of bark. The boy’s attention was caught, his gaze sharpening on the tree with an intensity that would worry Obito if he hadn’t seen the same exact expression on Kakashi’s face when they were children and something had caught the haughty boy’s undivided attention.

The game was on.

Obito began the merry chase, using snapped twigs and bent leaves and the barest whisper of his movements to guide the boy deeper into the forest. He didn’t make it easy on the kid, it was supposed to be a training exercise after all, but he made it fun, leading the boy in circles and up and down trees and through gullies until Kouichi was breathless with exhilaration and Obito was grinning wider than he could remember doing in years. 

He made his trail more and more subtle as the hour drew on, making it more of a challenge, before ending at the southern edge of a small river. By the end he could no longer hear Kouichi moving through the underbrush, he had pulled so far ahead, but he’d left enough breadcrumbs to follow. If the boy had been paying attention to his mother’s lessons, Kouichi shouldn’t have any trouble following him. It gave Obito just enough time to place the arrowhead on a nearby riverstone in just the right spot for it to catch the light.

If the kid made it to the end, he’d deserve a reward, after all. _ Like a treasure hunt, _ a long dormant part of his mind whispered in childish excitement, and Obito couldn’t help but snort at the thought.

A quick shunshin hid him in a group of trees standing sentinel across the rushing water and Obito hunkered down to wait. It didn’t take long and Obito couldn’t suppress the jolt of pride that rushed through him at how skilled his son was even at so young an age. It made all those times his aunts and uncles had blathered on and on about their children suddenly understandable. 

Kouichi moved out of the woods cautiously, eyeing the clear space around the river with suspicion. Obviously not sensing any danger, the boy crept closer to the water, eyes roving constantly, trying to find the next clue. Obito could see the exact moment the boy noticed the arrowhead. The kid’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped almost comically before he rushed over to scoop it up. Obito could barely contain his smile as he watched his son study every single inch of his prize, running his fingers over every groove and dip, twisting it around to squint at every angle. The fastidiousness and dedication to Kouichi’s thorough investigation was a trait he’d clearly inherited from his mother and the cooing noise the boy made when he discovered the arrowhead’s blue streak made Obito’s heart and head feel warm and soft.

It struck Obito then, as the late afternoon sun spun webs of light through the forest canopy and the river swirled and eddied calmly nearby, that he was… content. There was no pressing urge to move, to do, to act; no restrictive guilt squeezing his spine with rusted metal fingers; no voice whispering at the back of his mind. It was calm and peaceful and, for the first time in longer than Obito cared to remember, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and simply _ breathed. _

The tranquility was thoroughly shattered only moments later when his adorable little spawn began to shout.

“Thank you!” Obito jerked his head up, feeling unpleasantly like a cat that got its fur stroked the wrong way until he caught sight of the bright grin on Kouichi’s face.

“I really like your gift, Stanger-san! Come back and play with me again soon!” With that, the little boy turned his back on the stream and skipped back into the forest, swinging his new toy around and generally behaving like an excited four year old should.

There was a feeling glowing softly in Obito’s chest, something warm and kind and fragile. His son wanted to see him again. Well, his son wanted to play with his invisible playmate known as ‘Stranger-san’ again, but--

Wait…

That bright, fragile feeling in his chest shattered at the realization that he’d just royally fucked up the most basic parenting tenet in the fucking book: stranger danger. Now Kouichi was convinced that strangers who wanted to lure him away into remote locations with games and toys were to be trusted and sought out because it was _ fun. _

_ Shit. Fuck. You clueless, idiotic, useless, shit-for-brains, moronic, imbecilic dumbass! Fuck! _

Obito would deny until the Pure Lands that the sound he made as he collapsed backwards onto his ass was in any way a whine. Why was parenting so hard? He hadn’t even really started yet and he was already fucking up! How could _ Kakashi _ of all people make it look so fucking easy? Why did kids have to be so fucking trusting and just follow suspicious people and behavior into the forest? What was Kakashi teaching their son?!

...Actually, that was an _ excellent _ fucking point.

What had Kakashi been teaching Kouichi for the kid to just run off like that?! He was being targeted by ROOT, by _ Shimura Danzo, _ a man known as the Butcher in several smaller countries up north. That was just… un-fucking-acceptable, was what it was.

Obito spent the next few minutes grumbling and ranting to himself where he lay sprawled across the forest floor on his back. The sun’s rays no longer felt kind and warm against his skin, but instead bit into his eyes and across his cheeks mercilessly. Obito could almost feel the sunburn forming but couldn’t bring himself to care. Obviously this parenting thing wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

Maybe there was a ‘How to’ book somewhere?

~ 

Obito took a firm step back after that incident.

He wanted, _ desperately, _ to be involved in his son’s life, but not at the expense of the boy’s safety. Kouichi was small and kind and _ his, _ and therefore of the highest priority. As much as Obito wanted to contribute and insert himself into Kouichi’s life, he refused to do it without thinking. Rushing into dangerous and volatile situations was a habit of his old self, the stupid ass kid who couldn’t save anyone and nearly choked on his own foolishness during the Chuunin Exams. That boy was dead, crushed and buried under a mountain in Rock Country and burned to furious, vengeance-soaked ash in a blood-soaked field in the Hidden Mist. Obito refused to regress back into those bad habits just because he was _ excited. _

Kouichi was worth more consideration and care than that foolish boy he’d been was capable of having.

It hadn’t helped that Kakashi and Maito Gai inspected what seemed like every square inch of the property after Kouichi had told them about his adventure. They seemed to have concluded that Kouichi had made an imaginary friend, but now Obito had to be very circumspect in his actions. 

And so he stood back and he watched.

He watched and he saw all the little bits and pieces that made his son a person, all the little idiosyncrasies that seemed to match up with either the Uchiha Clan’s or what Obito remembered of Kakashi’s own proclivities as a child. It was fascinating to watch how certain traits came so clearly from either himself or Kakashi. 

Kouichi certainly seemed to enjoy sweets, like Obito had as a child, and giggling over ridiculous things. On the other hand, he also seemed to prefer muted colors and books, more like his mother. He hated spicy food because the strong scents burned his Hatake nose, and his eyesight was as sharp as a full-blooded Uchiha, picking out his mother’s traps during training with enviable ease.

But there were also times that Obito looked at his son and didn’t recognize him at all, like when Kouichi would sprawl out on the training grounds at night and name every single star and constellation in the sky, pointing each one out with painstaking accuracy to a highly bemused Kakashi. Neither Kakashi or Obito were prone to looking at the sky unless it was to navigate or look for oncoming attacks, and seeing such a thing in his son was almost… dazzling.

Kouichi also had the unfortunate habit of drawing on _ absolutely everything. _ Papers, books, his mother’s jutsu scrolls, Sarutobi’s paperwork, the _ walls; _ nowhere was safe when Kouichi got his hand on a writing implement. The boy was good, too, which baffled Obito even more. The only artistic person in Obito’s family had been his mother and, Sage rest her soul in the Pure Lands, she hadn’t been able to draw a _ stick figure. _ Uchiha Aiko’s talents had laid strictly in the realm of chord and cloth, not ink and paper. Obito wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but he thought the same could be said for Kakashi’s family considering that the younger man approached Kouichi’s artistic tendencies with the air of a man who had no idea what was happening but was determined to be supportive regardless.

But the biggest difference he noticed was how quiet Kouichi was when he was angry. It was so entirely different from Obito’s hot, brash temper or Kakashi’s vicious verbal assaults that Obito couldn’t even guess at who the kid learned it from. The cabin was always unnervingly silent when Kouichi was throwing a fit, the toddler refusing to be moved from his icy silence while Kakashi silently and patiently -- _ so patiently, when did he learn how to do that? _ \-- waited for Kouichi to crack open and spill out the poison of his tantrum.

And Kouichi _ would _be the one to break first because, for all of his impressive temper, he was still a toddler who wanted his mother’s comfort in the end.

Each moment of irregularity threw Obito off, like a misstep in a dance he should know or one of his kunai not being where he’d placed it. He still hadn’t decided if those were the moments he dreaded or enjoyed the most, seeing the obvious differences between Kouichi and the dual Clan legacies he bore on his shoulders.

If Obito had to choose, though, he’d say that watching his son train was his absolute favorite thing during his increasingly frequent visits. The sheer enthusiasm Kouichi had for every new technique, trick, or skill his mother taught him brightened Obito’s heart even on his worst days.

Like today.

Obito had just arrived at the clearing, thoughts dark and mind stormy at the consistent lack of progress his campaign was facing in Snow Country. Their Daimyo had no concept of surrender and refused to just give up and die already, despite the prolonged and painful progression of her illness. She was too headstrong for Obito’s more intricate plans to take root and he needed her dead, _ unsuspiciously _dead, as soon as humanly possible. 

For simply being a Regent after her husband’s death, Lady Sayaka was unfortunately well-loved and politically competent. Her son and heir, on the other hand, was a bigoted, hedonistic fool and would be so easy to lead around like a lamb for slaughter if he could be motivated to get off his ass for once and _ do something _ instead of partying until his mother finally decided to kick the bucket.

For all the manipulation and coercion Obito was capable of, there was very little he could do in the face of such outright, unapologetic _ laziness. _

Obito was pissed off and stressed when he arrived at his son and Kakashi’s home, but a few hours of watching Kouichi enthusiastically throw himself into his training regime was enough to soothe the burning itch in his eyes.

Kouichi was currently balancing very carefully on a tightrope, brows furrowed almost comically in pure concentration. Kakashi stood watching from a perpendicular angle on one of the trees the rope was tied to, waiting patiently.

The boy took one step, then two, carefully stepping along the rope before he finally made it to the end. 

“Yes!” he cheered, grinning as he jumped off the rope. “I did my balancing practice, Mama!”

“I noticed,” Kakashi replied dryly as he walked off the tree, although he ruffled Kouichi’s hair affectionately. “Nice job, pup.”

Obito watched, mildly disturbed, as Kouichi ducked his head with a pleased smile. Seeing Kakashi being affectionate and giving praise to anyone was still strange, but it seemed to come almost naturally with Kouichi. Not that Obito could throw stones, seeing as how Kouichi was alarmingly easy to adore. 

“Now can we do summons tag?!”

“I don’t know, do you think Nurui, Hareta, and Patchi can go against Pakkun, Bull, and Guruko?”

Kouichi’s answering smile edged towards feral as he bit his thumb, summoning his nin-dogs in a puff of smoke. Three puppies tumbled into existence, barely paying attention to their changed surroundings as they continued to wrestle themselves into a tangled knot of fur. It wasn’t until Kouichi whistled for them that they bothered looking around. When they caught sight of Kakashi, the puppies almost comically scrambled into a line, puffing up their chests and trying to look as serious as possible in front of their human’s mother. Nurui, the first puppy Kouichi had summoned all those months ago, was the biggest of the three. The other two, a light haired mix and a young dalmation, were so small that they could have been cradled in Obito’s forearms.

The line-up was, in a word, _ adorable. _ If Obito were a different man, he might have even cooed. As it was, he only barely suppressed a fond chuckle when Kouichi puffed himself up as well, staring down Kakashi challengingly.

“We’ve been practicing,” Kouichi proclaimed. On anyone else it would have come across as arrogant. Obito shook his head, bemused despite himself. Sometimes Kouichi’s attitude was pure Kakashi. The main difference being that, on Kouichi at least, it was cute. Though Obito suspected that he might be biased.

The man in question somehow managed to maintain a straight face, though his shaking shoulders betrayed his amusement, and summoned his nin-dogs as well. There was barely a moment of hesitation, each side eyeing each other up, before they flew at each other, taijutsu, genjutsu, and teamwork all combining into what Kouichi probably thought looked like a vicious brawl. In actuality, it was more like a mother lioness batting her cubs around while they growled and acted fierce. Kouichi was a ferocious cub, though. The boy was vicious in his tactics and he had obviously trained his nin-dogs to copy him. They went for the throat and, if they hadn’t been so young and inexperienced, they might’ve stood a chance against anyone who wasn’t Kakashi.

Kakashi’s bond with his nin-dogs was legendary, even amongst Konoha’s enemy nations. The jounin had tried his hardest to keep them a secret, of course, like any shinobi worth their kunai would have, but there’s only so much a single man could do in the face of the sheer fear he and his pack had wrought on their enemies. Terror, as Obito well knew, was a _ much _ stronger motivating factor than admiration. There was something about being hunted in the dark by a pack of vicious, growling monsters while their master stalked their prey with lightning flickering at his fingertips that seemed to horrify even the most jaded of shinobi.

Kakashi was a legend for a reason.

Normally, this would spark an indignation in Obito’s chest so powerful and hateful that he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else for days, but Obito couldn’t help but be grateful for it now. Kakashi was fierce and brutal, and he was teaching those same habits to Kouichi.

It was _ comforting _to see that Kouichi learned so quickly and that he could passably defend himself against the dangers of their world.

Obito shook his head, pushing the gloomy thoughts away before his stomach could roil. Instead, he watched as Hareta, the blonde mixed puppy, and Nurui outmaneuvered Guruko only to be taken down by Pakkun, while Kouichi evaded a wave of blunted kunai before being tackled by Bull, who effectively neutralized the boy by laying on top of him. 

“Bull! Come on, let me up!” Kouichi attempted to plead, even as the nin-dog grinned and settled himself even more comfortably on the boy. 

Obito watched as Kakashi sauntered over and sat down next to Kouichi.“What do you think happened?” 

Kouichi sighed dramatically as he stopped struggling and his head flopped back. “I let Bull get the drop on me ‘cause I underetch- underist- _ underestimated _ how fast he is ‘cause he’s so big, so I couldn’t watch my teammates’ backs. Sorry, guys,” he added, shooting a truly tragic look at his similarly trapped compatriots. 

“We’ll get ’em next time!” Nurui squeaked, his voice still young and puppy-ish. The other two yipped in agreement, still much too young to start speaking. That was another thing that made Obito want to puff up in pride. He didn’t know much about nin-dogs, but Kakashi’s reaction when Nurui had begun to speak only a few weeks after his first summoning assured Obito that, even in this, his son was extraordinary.

Obito smiled as Bull finally let Kouichi up and his puppies rushed him, all wagging tails and strategy ideas. There was no word for the entire situation other than _ cute _. 

Ugh. He was acting sentimental again… and yet he found that he didn’t mind it so much. It wasn’t as though it was affecting his work. Nor did it change his plans. The world couldn’t continue on in the state it was in, where violence was practically the law of the land. He would show Kakashi that the world could be made better, provide a safe place for Kouichi… 

“Nurui! Stop!” 

Obito looked up in time to see the puppy tackle Kouichi into a patch of mud, the other two nin-puppies getting in on the action as Kouichi laughed helplessly. “Mama, help me!” 

Kakashi smiled benevolently, walking over to pull his son out of the mud, when the boy turned and hurled a ball of mud square into Kakashi’s face. The man spluttered as Kouichi giggled. “The element of surprise!” he crowed, ignoring that he was covered in far more mud than his mother. 

Obito watched with something alarmingly close to glee as Kakashi straightened, one eyebrow lifted. “If that’s how you want to play it, pup…” 

_ Well, perhaps this world isn’t _ entirely _ awful_, Obito conceded, ignoring the odd pressure on his chest as he watched Kakashi teasingly douse his son with a small water jutsu, much to the boy’s delight. 

When the two of them had stopped splashing around and had gotten rid of most of the water, they sat in the middle of the field. Obito resettled himself more comfortably against his tree -- and it _ was _ his at this point, with how often he leaned against it -- curious now as Kakashi began to speak. 

“So this might be a bit early, pup, but I think you’re ready.” Obito watched with interest as Kakashi pulled out a small, square paper. 

Kouichi tilted his head to the side, looking at the paper with clear confusion. “Sealing?” 

“Not quite,” Kakashi replied, settling himself more comfortably. “Remember how we talked about affinities?”

Kouichi nodded. “Uh-huh, different people draw off of… um, different energies. So they’re better at jutsus with one element. That affects what you do when you fight. You use lightning, so you’re strongest against earth people and less strong against water people.” 

“‘Less strong', huh,” Kakashi said dryly, eyebrow cocked at the phrasing. Kouichi just stuck his lip out stubbornly and nodded firmly.

Obito slowly shifted in his seat to crane his neck and get a better view. He, like many of the Uchiha, had a fire affinity, which was fairly common in Fire Country as a whole. He… actually wasn’t sure if lightning ran in the Hatake bloodline or not, but it was the second-most common affinity in his own bloodline, so Kouichi would most likely have a lightning-affinity. It was almost a pity, the amount of power Kouichi had in his tiny lungs would have resulted in some of the most epic fire balls.

Kakashi nodded before holding out the small square of paper. “Want to give it a shot?” 

Kouichi practically bounced in place even as he carefully took the paper. Obito smiled as he remembered a little girl with dark brown hair taking her own piece of chakra paper, eager to keep learning about her talents, so much like Kouichi. 

The boy focused… and the paper dissolved in his hands, drops of water visible even from Obito’s position. 

The missing-nin sat back, surprised. That was… unexpected. 

“...Huh.” 

Kouichi frowned. “What? Is that bad?” 

“No, no, you’re fine, pup!” Kakashi quickly reassured the boy, one hand rising to rub the back of his head sheepishly. “It was just a surprise, water affinities are pretty rare in Fire Country. Which means you’ve got an advantage against people who think they know what Konoha-nin are capable of,” he added thoughtfully, his keen eye already narrowed in consideration. Kouichi preened under his mother’s undivided attention 

Obito himself was stunned silent by the revelation. No doubt, if the Uchiha were still alive and the Clan Elders had heard about Kouichi’s affinity, they’d scoff and narrow their eyes in disapproval. _ An _ Uchiha _ with a _ water affinity? _ What a disappointment, but what could we have expected. This is what you get with bad breeding, after all. _

No, the Clan Elders would definitely have had _ opinions _about Kouichi not being like an Uchiha should be.

_ But, then again, _ Obito thought wryly as he watched Kouichi descend into a fit of gleeful hysterics he didn’t think either himself or Kakashi had ever been capable of, _ Kouichi was his own person. Why should he match up with any preconceived notions, Uchiha or otherwise? _

And it truly was a gift, to stand by and watch Kouichi babble excitedly about how he could use his future water jutsus to prank his uncle Gai or avoid baths for _ forever, _ when Obito’s first thought after affinity presentation was which jutsu would be best to roast as many enemy nin as possible. No doubt, Kakashi would’ve had similar thoughts after his own presentation. 

To see Kouichi’s unashamed and childish enthusiasm was a balm to his aching soul and yet another pillar on which to prop up his conviction.

No child, especially not _ his _ child, should have their first thoughts be of life and death and the precarious balance between victory and defeat. Obito would change the world, would rip it up by its very foundations and rebuild it from scraps, mud bricks, and sheer will power if that was what it took. 

A little genjutsu wouldn’t hurt either. 

Obito couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

~

Obito smiled faintly to himself as he snuck back out of the ROOT headquarters. Continuing to monitor Danzo was critical, but the deeply petty part of him just really enjoyed stealing all of Danzo’s pens every time he was there. Perhaps it was a small revenge, but there was something very enjoyable about flustering the manipulative puppetmaster. Even in a little way like this.

Especially when he knew that the Hound was on an assignment to screw up Danzo’s latest negotiations with a pirate crew that mostly operated off the coast of Hot Springs. Danzo had attempted to contract them to steal children for one of his ROOT cells. Kakashi was doubtlessly going to have fun burning that deal to the ground.

...Not that Obito was particularly concerned with what Kakashi enjoyed. It was simply an acknowledgement of his former teammate’s skills and marked distaste for violence involving children these days.

Despite the fact that it would be wiser to use Kamui to disappear quickly, Obito instead found himself adopting a henge and walking through the village, a totally forgettable face pinned in place as he enjoyed the night air. 

The world was broken, and yet… people were still happy. Obito was used to seeing the dregs of humanity, the worst society had to offer, the horrors on the underside of humanity.

How long had it been since he had seen the other side of that? The simple joys of people living their lives?

Ahead of him, a little girl, maybe four at the most, ran about, a little origami bird in her hands that she pretended could fly. Her parents walked just behind her, fingers loosely intertwined as they made their way down the crowded, cobbled streets.

Pressure built in Obito’s chest as he watched. Part of him was angry that this little girl could laugh and be free while Kouichi, who was so kind and big hearted, was forced into isolated exile. But he also couldn’t help but smile as she ran back to her parents, babbling a story about her paper creation’s adventures.

He rounded a corner, the pressure growing in his lungs as he frowned again. His mind kept drifting away from his plan, making it harder to focus on the details, even though he knew the importance of each step and piece. 

It was like there was a magnet, a slowly building cyclonic wind dragging him towards what it would’ve been like to…

Well. It didn’t matter.

A familiar loud voice drew his attention. Maito was walking down the street with his former genin teammates -- Genma and Ebisu. Accompanying them was Kakashi’s former ANBU and ROOT kouhai, Tenzo. It looked as though they were having an evening out.

Obito frowned, a strange, paralytic feeling spreading throughout his suddenly leaden limbs. If Kakashi was in Hot Springs, and Gai and Sarutobi were in the village… who was with Kouichi?

~

“Hmm. It’s not perfect.”

“For your first time that’s pretty good.”

Obito slumped against his tree trunk. If anyone ever knew enough to ask, he had _ certainly _ not rushed out of Konoha like his cloak was on fire and he most _ definitely _ had not torn through the woods like a madman to reach the hidden clearing as soon as possible. He was not worried. As continuously odd as it was, Kakashi seemed to be a good parent and obviously wouldn’t have left Kouichi alone. 

Obviously.

It was still a bit of a relief to see the boy sitting on the porch between Shizune and Tsunade, the older woman reading a book as the younger woman taught Kouichi how to sew. 

Interestingly enough, the boy seemed to enjoy it, his brows drawn together as he focused on drawing tiny, careful stitches to pull the frayed edges of his damaged shirt together.

“If you can patch that, I’ve got some silicone pads and I can show you how to stitch sutures,” Tsunade added, lowering her book slightly to smile at Kouichi.

The boy grinned, then looked puzzled. “I thought you used healing jutsus to fix cuts and stuff.”

“That is typical, but there might be times when you are chakra-depleted and need to patch a wound on yourself or on a teammate, or when using chakra will give you away to an enemy.” Tsunade’s face grew serious, even from a distance. “Never forget that all of your skills are critical, not just the ones that involve jutsus. Like your mother.” She shared a small smirk with the boy. “What makes him a terrifying shinobi isn’t that he knows a lot of jutsus. It’s that he’s creative with them.”

Obito crossed his arms and let himself sulk a bit. He had grown into a brilliant shinobi, he had skills that the Elemental Nations had never seen before. He was not an insecure genin anymore.

By the time Obito had talked himself out of his inward spiral, Kouichi had returned to his work and continued to talk. “I saw a picture in a book, of a cross stitch made by one of the characters, and it looked like a dragon. Can I learn how to do that too?”

“Neither of us know how to do that, but they sell kits with basic patterns. We can get one for you,” Shizune replied, smiling brightly as she repaired a rip in her own trousers. 

“Thank you!” Kouichi chirped, smiling brightly, before it grew sneakier. “Do you think we can make katsudon for dinner tonight?”

“Don’t push your luck, kiddo,” Shizune replied dryly, her warm smile and ruffling of Kouichi’s hair taking the sting out of her words.

Obito made himself look away. Jealousy sat like a rock in the acidic pit of his stomach, but underneath that was a deep well of sadness. 

Kouichi would have no memories of him. No shared memories of activities they could enjoy together, no stories he could pass on about his family. Kakashi wouldn’t know anything about Obito’s parents; they had been dead for years before they had been on a team together. Maybe one day they could look at the official records, but they would never know about how the boy’s grandfather had a cheerful laugh and terrible sense of humor, or that his grandmother had loved to haggle over new dyes and had smiled and hummed whenever she cooked.

Very vividly, a memory popped into Obito’s head. He had been very young, perhaps only two or three, and his mother’s warm arms had been around him as he had scooped up thick dough for cookies in his chubby, toddler hands.

_ That’s it, lots of chocolate chips, Obi-kun! You’re being very helpful! _

The recipe had remained tucked in her recipe book, an old and cracked leather binder. Obito had attempted to make them many times after their deaths, and one year had even managed to give a batch to Rin for her birthday, although he hadn’t been brave enough to tell her the significance. Now he didn’t even know where the recipe was and Kouichi would never have a chance to try them, to share that memory. 

It hurt, somewhere deep down that Obito tried to ignore.

“Can we spar now? You said you were gonna teach me new moves after we finished sewing!” Kouichi’s voice brought Obito back to the present, where his son was practically bouncing on his toes, clothing and sewing implements almost knocked to the ground his excitement. The boy made a hasty grab for the falling supplies and arranged them into a tidy pile on the ground before turning back to the watching women with a sheepish but eager smile on his face.

Shizune grinned as she stood, exchanging a glance with Tsunade. “What do you think, Shishou? Should we teach Kouichi that super-cool new move we talked about earlier?” 

Obito allowed himself a small snicker at the dry look on Tsunade’s face in response to Shizune’s glee and Kouichi’s bouncing impatience. 

And wasn’t it useful, how Kakashi had surrounded himself with such powerful friends? Anyone who went after Kouichi could encounter one of the Sannin, or the Hokage, or even Maito Gai, who was no weakling despite his… eccentricities. Not to mention Kakashi himself, whose mere name still scared foreign shinobi shitless. 

It would be impossible to steal Kouichi away. 

Obito caught the thought and froze. Traced it back along the faint line of regret he could feel pulsing in his chest. 

...Apparently, he had been subconsciously considering it. What had he been thinking?! He needed to be inconspicuous for his plan to work, which involved _ not _being hunted down by infamous shinobi with enough clout and chakra to dig up his carefully laid traps with a vengeance if given the right motivation. 

A missing Kouichi would most definitely have spurred them into action.

And even if it had been a reasonable idea to remove Kouichi from his current living situation, Obito was on the move, all the time. That would be cruel to do to any child, much less one as important to him as Kouichi.

So Obito grabbed that impulse by the throat and ripped it out of himself. It struggled against his psyche like a writhing snake, twisting around to dig its fangs into his lungs and allow its poisonous compulsions and seductive reasoning to twist his thoughts, but Obito would not allow it. Not in this, not in the matter of his son, and so he ripped and pulled and _ shredded _ until the little voice in his head whispering about _ what a fine soldier Kouichi would make for the cause _ was silenced for good.

By the end of it he was slumped on the ground, gasping for breath and he had to laugh at himself. He had always known he had a tendency for over-dramatisation, but reacting like this to a mild internal debate was just ridiculous. Obito snorted incredulously even as he tiredly blinked Kamui into existence around him. He didn’t want to be at the clearing anymore.

He was tired. He needed to rest.

~

Obito was in the backwoods of the Land of Grass, watching idly from the shadows as his latest plaything, a terrorist organization fanatically pursuing religious reform, was finally spurred into radical action. It was a zealous, but ultimately doomed, movement that was more focused on bloodline cleansing than any true spirituality and useful only in that it destabilized the key trade routes between Rock and Sand.

It was amusing though, in the way most morbid things were, to watch the squabbling fools try to force the universe to their will, as if their hate was enough to rip up the fabric of fate, to shred destiny until it was like an old and tattered coat, fluttering uselessly in the wind.

As if something as petty as hate could do anything as grand as that.

Love though. Love was a different story. It was a twisted, beastly emotion that took root and grew in even the blackest of hearts. Love of money, of land, of country, of kin -- all of it powerful enough to twist the soul and black out the sun. It was love that was going to change the world. Love of a younger brother ripped from the world before his time and in the name of ancestors no one could recall. Love of a mother with freckles spread across her face like stars and a heart full of joy. Love for a father who smiled even in despair, even as the people who should have cared for him turned away in scorn.

Love for a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve like she wore her clan markings across her cheeks, fierce and proud and unashamed.

It was Madara's love, _ Obito's _ love, that was going to change the world. It would bring all of the warring and hateful nations to their knees, lasso the moon tight and _ force _ people to understand, to listen, to _ care, _ because it was finally going to be their own happiness that was on the line.

But in this war of attrition for humanity's soul, even hatred had its place, had its role to play.

And so Obito sat back and watched.

The screams echoed harshly throughout the night, carrying up into the night sky like a macabre anthem. It was a dark night, the moon hidden from sight behind a thick bank of clouds, but the fire from the burning caravan lit up the night like a flare. The train of six wagons had been waylaid by the terrorist group at a sharp bend in the road and it took less than ten minutes for the majority of the wagons to be set ablaze. 

The men were being hunted down and slaughtered, their necks cut and their guts rent open on the sharp steel blades of their attackers. The elderly were stripped and beaten, and the children were dragged to a nearby tree to have their hands cut off before being tossed aside. The stench of blood and feces, smoke and fear clogged the air until it was thick enough to choke on. The crackle-pop of fire burning through wood and cloth felt deafening, but it wasn't nearly loud enough to drown out the screaming.

There was something building up in Obito as he watched the chaos unfold. It was a deep and all-consuming sort of feeling, starting in his stomach until it jumped up into his burning chest and constricted throat. There was a strange detachedness to it that made Obito curious, like he was feeling something very strongly in reaction to the scene in front of him, but he couldn’t identify _ what _ that feeling was supposed to be. All he knew was that it made his fists clench, his skin sweat, and his gorge rise. He felt like he should be doing something, but that didn’t make sense. He’d already done everything the plan required, inflamed the local tempers enough to spark the violence he needed to disrupt the trade routes, to cause this raid to happen. His job was done and there was really no reason to feel restless.

A group of men wearing masks were laughing as they dragged a woman away from the melee by her hair. She was cursing up a storm, kicking and scratching and biting any of the attackers that came within range. Her face was streaked with ash and blood as she bared her teeth savagely, and Obito was almost impressed by her bravery. 

The men just laughed as the woman screamed, mingling defiance and fear in her voice. Cloth ripped, and the screams took on a different tone, desperate and furious, a cry for mercy that scraped the air. 

Obito looked towards the remnants of the caravan, realizing that his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding, a jagged shard of pain behind his eyes, iron clamped around his ribs and making it hard to take a full breath. 

_ What was this? This feeling that he could not place? _

Obito continued to listen to her screams, unable to watch but equally unable to tune her out. Each gasp and plea and sob were like needles scoring down his spine and ripping up his flesh, but there was something inside his head, a little piece of foreign logic and cold precision, that whispered at him to stay put, to not interfere. It said that this was meant to happen and Obito -- like he had done since he awoke in a damp and freezing cave to a world that no longer made any sense -- listened. He stayed rooted to the tree and stared at the flickering flames blankly as he waited for the carnage to end.

It was only the sound of young, childish screams that finally shattered his strange apathy and Obito turned towards them like a hawk, eyes zoning in immediately to the source. It had almost sounded like…

The woman’s child, a young boy, was hiding under the only wagon not caught up in the blaze and watching the men who had just assaulted his mother stalk towards him, weapons out and dripping with blood in the firelight.

The kid was inconsequential.

Just one more face in the line of inevitable dead.

The boy's fate really shouldn't have mattered, not truly, because it would all be erased once the Moon Plan blossomed from long held hopes into sharp reality. Only then would the violence stop. Only then would everyone, _ everyone, _regardless of class or creed, race or bloodline, be free to live and love in a perfect world of their own making. A perfectly tailored paradise for every single soul to grow old and die happy within. And this boy, as terrified and distraught as he appeared now, would be safe because in whose personally designed world would this happen? If nothing else, the boy would exist happily and healthily within the borders of Obito's own long-awaited paradise.

So it truly, truly did not matter what happened to him now. Not really.

But he sounded just like Kouichi when he cried, and Obito was moving before he'd even registered the desire to act.

Blood once more flew through the air, sprinkling down on a road already so soaked that it had turned to mud. Once he started, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Each masked face he encountered met a swift and violent end, his staff weapon and knives cutting cleanly through flesh and impaling the marauders into the bedrock easily. There was a fierceness to his movements that puzzled him in an absent, vague sort of way. It lent a feral, red tinge to his thoughts as he ripped the spine out of the gang leader’s neck before shunshining toward a machete-wielding man -- one who stood unapologetically in front of a blood soaked tree, with a pile of tiny hands littering the ground at his feet -- and cracking open his head like an egg.

It was justified to act now, of course. The radical rebels had done their part, had attacked a main thoroughfare, and it would slip fear into the minds of the local trade guilds -- but only if there were some survivors. No one could spread the tale if they were all dead. They had served their purpose and now Obito was fully in his right to slaughter them all.

As the last attacker fell, the ringing in Obito’s ears finally fell silent, allowing the sobs and cries of the survivors to puncture through into his awareness. Obito quickly spun on one heel, eyes roving the wreckage desperately until they landed on the young child that started his rampage with a single, trembling cry. He fell to his knees and scooped the boy into his arms, feeling down the length of the kid’s struggling limbs to determine if anything had been irreparably damaged. 

“Quit moving, brat,” Obito bit out irritably when the boy’s flailing elbow nearly hit him in the throat. The kid immediately froze, moving only in small, uncontrollable tremors that wracked him like tiny earthquakes along the fault lines of his nerves. It was only when Obito was done with his inspection, healing some of the worst burns and cuts, that he finally looked at the tiny face staring up at him from the shelter of his arms.

The boy’s eyes were devoid of anything human or sane, his mind drenched in blind, animal panic as he stared up into Obito’s face.

He looked at Obito like he was made of fire and fangs, like he was a Great Youkai of old, the ones whose bones now littered the Mountain’s Graveyard like calcified trees and who used to hunt down and slaughter humans for pleasure and food both. Obito’s arms slackened in shock and the little boy stumbled away from him, wailing wordlessly as he grabbed onto his mother’s tattered yukata sleeve with a white-knuckled desperation that Obito remembered vividly from his own darkest and cruelest experiences. 

It was enough to make Obito dizzy with nausea and he staggered to his feet like a drunkard, heaving himself back and _ away _ from the boy who was cowering over his mother’s corpse. Cowering away from _ Obito. _

His hands were shaking and he felt cold as he activated Kamui, desperate to escape the sight and sound of the carnage around him, the fear and despair and loss that echoed out through the night in the voice of a boy no older than Obito’s own son. His Kouichi.

The silence of Kamui rang with its absence and Obito fell to his knees, sick and breaking on the inside in a way that he couldn’t quite understand but which _ hurt _ so viciously he could barely breathe under the assault.

For all of the painful, horrendous things Obito had done to ensure the success of Madara's, of _ his, _ peace... this was the first time Obito had ever truly felt like a monster.

What had he just done?

~

When Obito stepped out of Kamui, he paused, squinting into the strong sunlight. 

After seeing the fruition of his plans in Grass, Obito had retreated to his hideaway, deep in the mountains. He had spent almost three days in bed before he had dragged himself out again. Perhaps he had caught a mild illness. That would explain the exhaustion and why the world had seemed so gray. 

But his motivation had been renewed. Humanity would not save itself, even with history serving as a lesson on the horrors of war. Living through those horrors had not stopped them from being perpetuated, and so he needed to force the change himself. His plans were finally working, coming to light, his goals closer than ever. 

A world of peace was truly going to be in reach, so soon-- 

BA-HOON!!! 

Obito froze. Blinked as laughter rang out. 

_ ...What _ in the _ world _ was that _ sound? _

He slipped forward to get a better view, and was surprised at the happy chaos he saw before him. All of Kakashi’s nin-dogs and all four of Kouichi’s -- it seemed that a new little puff of white fur had joined the puppies -- had been summoned, but they weren’t running drills. They were tussling and playing. And they weren’t alone. 

Kakash's presence was expected, but he hadn’t anticipated Maito and Tsunade being at the house as well. They didn’t appear stressed enough for this to be a war meeting or a medical emergency, so… 

BA-HOON!!! 

Obito slammed his hands down over his ears and ground his teeth in irritation. By the Sage's saggy left ball sack, _ what the fuck was that noise!? _

Obito scanned the property quickly and efficiently until he spotted Kouichi playing with the dogs, a brightly colored party favor in his mouth and, apparently, the source of the bizarre, obnoxious sound. 

A party? What occasion warranted a party with all of the secrecy surrounded Kouichi’s existence? 

Not that Kouichi didn’t deserve parties, he deserved all of the good things in life, but Obito was still confused. 

Then Shizune emerged from the house, carrying a cake, one hand sheltering five flaming candles from the cross breeze as she set it on a little table. 

“Kocchan!” 

The boy perked up at his nickname, and even from a distance Obito could see a giant grin break across his face as he ran towards the porch. 

“Happy Birthday, Kocchan!” 

“Yosh! The spirit of youth burns brighter with every year!” 

...Oh. Obito quickly scoured his memory for the date. It was August 17th. 

August 17th was Kouichi’s birthday. 

How… how hadn’t he known that? All his work, all his surveillance, and somehow the lack of this small, simple, basic piece of information had never occurred to him. 

“Go on, otherwise there’ll be wax on the cake.” Kakashi’s gentle teasing pulled Obito out of his own head as Kouichi narrowed his eyes, deep in thought as he apparently considered his possible birthday wishes, and then blew out the candles very precisely. 

The adults of the party cheered, the puppies bayed excitedly, and Obito realized that he was smiling, because his son was another year older… 

...and it was another year thinking that Obito was dead. 

Obito shoved that thought away and focused on the scene in front of him again. Kouichi had received an enormous piece of chocolate cake, and to his amusement Kakashi cut himself a small piece with as little frosting as possible. It surprisingly made Obito smile a little to see that his former teammate still shoved the icing off to the farthest corner of the plate as soon as he could. They chatted and joked, Kouichi basking in the attention of the adults he loved. 

Breathing hurt all of a sudden, and he felt the need to run away, but he couldn’t actually move his legs. No matter what was going on in his fucked-up head, he couldn’t look away from this moment.

August 17th was Kouichi’s birthday, and he liked chocolate cake. How hadn’t he _ known? _

“Kocchan, would you like your gifts now?”

Kouichi gasped at Maito’s declaration. “I can open them now?!”

The green-clad man gave his big, booming laugh, and Kakashi ruffled Kouichi’s hair affectionately. “Well, if you’d rather wait, we can put them away for awhile…”

“No, no, I can open them now!” Kouichi quickly reassured his mother, who chuckled and pulled a few wrapped bundles out from under his chair.

Obito watched with intense interest as Kouichi carefully unwrapped each gift, eyes narrowed with concentration as he refused to rip the paper. The Sandaime had sent a stack of new fantasy novels, which Kouichi almost dropped from the weight, and Jiraiya had sent a stuffed frog toy that the boy hugged happily. Looking into Kouichi’s room before, Obito had seen other stuffed toys shaped like frogs and dogs on his bed, and now he knew where at least half of them came from. Shizune and Tsunade had brought sweets and a book on poisons, which Kouichi was enamored with for several minutes. Maito had brought a scroll of new katas and a knit green hat, Konoha’s leaf symbol worked into the design. 

Kakashi’s gift was last, and Obito had to admit he was curious. For Team Seven he had… actually been reasonably good at remembering to give gifts on the right occasions, but it was always something extremely useful and vaguely insulting, like a manual on _ proper _ weapons maintenance. The man was eminently practical, but this was Kouichi, his baby, who Kakashi clearly loved and adored.

Kouichi opened the gift and gasped, practically bouncing with excitement as he held it up. Obito squinted. It was… definitely a book, but Kouichi hadn’t even been that excited over the other books he had received.

“Astronomy and the Cosmos! Mama, this is so cool!”

Kakashi’s body language indicated that he was grinning wildly as Kouichi threw his arms around him and thanked him, before quickly going and hugging the others to thank them for their gifts as well. Obito huffed a small laugh -- Kouichi certainly loved stars, and this was just more evidence at how deeply that interest ran.

As the party continued, Obito thought about Kouichi’s other interests. He certainly enjoyed art, and had picked up Tsunade’s sewing lessons like a duck to water. He liked dogs, sweets, and puzzles. He liked learning new water tricks and mastering taijutsu sets.

All of those things came together into one truly perfect little boy. 

And just like that, the _ perfect _ birthday gift popped into his mind and he fell freely into Kamui with a broad smile slicing across his face.

~

The day after Kouichi’s birthday, Obito was in a market hundreds of miles away, picking up some basic writing supplies and ink for himself, when he saw what he'd been looking for.

The street stall was the sort of place he would usually pass by without a second thought -- who had time for frivolities when the Plan would solve everything? -- but the colors caught his eye. Pens and paints and yarn and paper, in every shade of the rainbow, was stacked on shelves and hung from hooks. Examples of artwork from paintings to sketches to intricate origami were displayed to show the quality of the woman’s wares. 

Kouichi loved artwork, still doodled on any surface he could find, though Kakashi had at least curbed the brat's propensity for drawing on the walls.

“Are you looking for something, young man?”

Obito jumped, and realized that he had been standing and staring long enough for the woman selling the supplies to notice him. “No! Yes, maybe, um…”

The woman laughed warmly, settling her arms on the front counter as she leaned forward, peering up at him in amusement. “I think you had every answer in there, if you don’t mind me saying.”

The cold and vicious logic in the back of his head hissed at him to be angry and leave, _ now_, but… for once it didn’t quite take. It was just too… amusing, and when did _ that _ happen? 

“Well, it’s… my son loves art.” 

And kami, it wasn’t until it was out of his mouth that Obito realized what he said.

It was the first time he had called Kouichi his son out loud.

Thankfully the woman was talking again, saving him from that potential panic attack.

“Oh, would he like something from here?”

“He would probably like your whole stall if he saw it,” Obito answered truthfully. There was no harm in answering in generalities. “How much for the pack of paper and the gel pens?”

He felt entirely frivolous as he let the vendor lead him through the available options to pick out the best gift for his son, but… this was important.

After all, what kind of father didn’t give their son a birthday gift?

_A dead one,_ his mind helpfully supplied, and Obito just barely resisted the urge to scream. He was going to do this and it was _perfectly_ _acceptable_ to do this, no matter what that voice in the back of his mind kept screeching at him.

~

Back in his study, Obito grinned as he taped down the last corner of the wrapping. The corners weren’t perfectly straight, and it looked lumpy, but he had a gift for Kouichi! For his son’s birthday! 

Kouichi would love it! Hopefully. 

Obito played with the lopsided edges of his gift in chagrin as he thought about all the potential reactions Kouichi could have to his gift: good, bad, happy, angry, suspicious. Oh, by all the little gods, what would _ Kakashi's _ reaction be? How could Obito possibly dispel the younger jounin's suspicions?

Obito felt overwhelmed suddenly by the enormity of what he was doing. Despite his observations and intuitions, he didn't actually know his son. They'd never spoken, never interacted beyond that one, poorly thought-out game of treasure hunting, and Kouichi thought he was dead. Uchiha Obito died almost ten years ago according to anyone who mattered. In truth, Uchiha Obito was a ghost, a specter of misfortune that visited unsuspecting victims to dole out justice as he saw fit, to shape the world in his image, and yet here he was, attempting to give a little boy a birthday present. In that moment, what he was doing finally sank in, and excitement turned to horror. 

What had he been thinking?! The arrowhead had been bad enough, had raised enough suspicion, he couldn’t just… drop in and leave a gift out of nowhere! No matter what he did, what he tried, he was less than a ghost to Kouichi, because he couldn’t be involved at all. He couldn’t touch his son, talk to him, interact with him, be a part of his life in any way, so_ what was the point?! _

As Obito stood there, staring down at the poorly wrapped present, he couldn’t help but hear the ringing echo of another little boy, one who had been just as innocent as Kouichi until a fateful attack -- an attack that could’ve been avoided, but _ wasn’t _because it was all a part of the Plan. 

The plan for the greater good and the soul of mankind.

The screaming boy in his memory didn’t fade in the face of such thoughts and Obito quickly retreated into Kamui and gently placed his son’s present down in some faraway, shadowed corner before his clenching fists could wrinkle the packaging. Yes, Kouichi would most likely enjoy his gift, but Obito could never give it to him. It wouldn’t be safe to contact the boy. 

Obito was a harbinger of the future and until that future finally arrived, he embodied only pain for innocent little children.

~

As the sun rose higher, Obito rehearsed all of the relevant facts in his head. 

He had anticipated the Akatsuki becoming useful, but the potential they had now was beyond his best projections. Pein, as he now preferred to be known, was so angry with the world at large that he had no care about burning everything down -- thought it necessary, in fact. Konan, so loyal and devoted, only fueled that belief, regardless of whether she truly believed in it or not. Their numbers had been reduced, and yet they were already seeking alliances with other missing-nin that Obito had been monitoring as potential recruits for years. 

It was a golden opportunity, a sign that Pein, for all his affection and reverence for his late friend and compatriot, was less altruistic in his methods for pursuing peace. Not that the man’s systematic slaughter of the Amegakure political upper echelon wasn’t a blaring signal in its own right, but the recruitment of missing-nin showed a certain level of dubious ethics that was just what Obito needed to finally get a foothold in the Akatsuki organization. If he could exploit their remaining anger over Yahiko’s assassination just right… well, he’d finally get the manpower needed to move forward with some of his more ambitious plans. 

Now he just needed to convince the man in question.

The meeting place was on the border between the Land of Storms and the Land of Fields, in a little clearing that held nothing but a burned out cabin and an old, cracked well. Obito arrived first, just as the sun reached its zenith, but he held himself in check, hidden in the shadows until the sound of robes swaying through grass broke through the silence. Obito scanned the clearing and easily spotted the cloaked figure standing at its edge, orange hair and piercings bright and shining in the sunlight.

Obito stepped out into the clearing to meet him and had to force himself not to shudder as the meat puppet once known as Yahiko turned to meet his gaze, a foreign and bitter intelligence staring out at him balefully through lifeless eyes. 

Obito had never actually met Yahiko, but Madara had spoken of him in a condescendingly fond way, which was practically a ringing endorsement from the old bastard. The man Madara had described was zealous, arrogant, and charming -- the complete opposite of the cold and calculating personality facing Obito at that moment. That discrepancy was enough to convince Obito that Zetsu’s intelligence reports were correct and that Nagato, now Pein, was using his old friend's body as an avatar to compensate for his ruined legs. It was just similar enough to Akasuna no Sasori’s unquenchable _ fascination _ that Obito had to repress an involuntary shiver of unease. 

The idea of using a loved one’s corpse to honor the deceased’s memory did not sit well in Obito’s mind. The mere thought of someone attempting it with his own parents, or with _ Rin, _ was enough to get his blood boiling with fury. It was nothing less than an act of desecration and the fact that Pein had even considered it, much less carried it out, pointed to an extremely unhealthy relationship with loss and grief.

Not that his own reaction had been any healthier.

Obito deliberately moved away from those musings_ , _the thought sending a spike of pain through his head as he focused on the task ahead: gaining control of the Akatsuki.

“Madara.”

Pein’s voice broke the silence like a hammer striking anvil, voice strong but utterly toneless. Obito knew that the actual Madara would have bristled at the disrespect and demanded to be addressed by the proper title, but Obito knew how to twist such things to his advantage and didn’t bother rising to the bait.

“Pein,” Obito said, equally as bland, and was rewarded with a slight head tilt. 

“You wished to offer terms of alliance,” Pein continued after another stretch of almost painful silence, a quiet that Obito refused to be the first to break. “I am here. Speak.”

Cheeky little bastard, wasn’t he?

“We seek the same things, you and I. We both are searching for a way to make peace between the nations, to rid ourselves of the plague of war. It seemed logical for us to meet at the very least, do you not agree?” Obito stated in his most ingratiating voice. Pein said nothing for a long moment and Obito allowed himself to wait the other man out. He was no longer a young, naive boy and, as he had become older and more scarred, Obito had learned the value of patience. A virtue that Obito doubted the man in front of him had to the same degree.

Once again, Pein broke the silence first.

“Yahiko mentioned you once. He said that you were violent and callous, too unpredictable to be a reliable ally. He said that your very existence itself was worthy of suspicion.”

Obito couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the thought of Madara’s reaction to _ that. _ This Yahiko had obviously had very good instincts, but that wouldn’t stop Obito from convincing Pein otherwise. 

“He thought my methods were too drastic, too violent for the Akatsuki to be involved with. He believed that peace should be sought after peacefully, that the organization should lead by example. Of course, you already know this.”

Pein nodded curtly.

“You also know,” Obito continued, gripping the knife of grief and rage tightly and _ twisting _it in deeper and deeper with each word, “that those methods were ultimately useless. He preached passivity and kindness, that violence was only to be used for defense and as a last resort. For his convictions, he wound up dead, killed by those who claimed to be his allies.” With every word out of his mouth, Obito could see Pein’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth flatten in anger and banked violence, even as the eyes stayed blank. Dead men felt nothing, after all, even with the living in control of their corpse.

“As was demonstrated quite clearly by his unfortunate death, Yahiko, despite his worthy goals and admirable intent, wasn’t always the best at determining who his true allies and enemies were.”

“And who are you, that you can say such things to one of Yahiko’s closest and most loyal?” Pein bit out tensely. Obito felt his lips lift smugly at the capitulation, no matter how small it was. Just a little more, just a little push, and Obito would have Pein eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. The only thing required to fall was a slight wobble, a small instability, and Pein was as unstable as they came. The man already wanted violence, all Obito needed to do was give the man a viable method for carrying it out. Pein’s righteous anger would do the rest.

“I am no enemy. I am an ally who seeks peace without fearing the sword when it becomes necessary to wield it. My plans merely reflect that mentality.”

“And what, exactly, are these plans of yours?” Pein bit out cautiously. The meat puppet’s eyes remained lifelessly dull, but Obito could sense the man’s intrigue.

The trick, Obito knew, was to say just enough to entice the man, but not enough to scare him away. When it came to world domination and international acts of terrorism, that balance became a very thin line. Thankfully, Obito had been walking it for years now and knew how to play the game.

“First and foremost, my plan involves the elimination of the bijuu from the political playing field.”

Pein’s scoff was expected. It was, after all, a very ambitious goal.

“And after that, would you like Rock and Leaf-nin to sing a tavern song together while dancing a jig?” 

Which, honestly, that was just unnecessarily sarcastic.

“My, Pein, if I knew were so lazy and unmotivated as that, I wouldn’t have bothered meeting with you. I, for one, began my crusade with the understanding that establishing world peace wasn’t going to be _ easy,” _ Obito purred out condescendingly, and Pein’s mirth faded into cold regard once more. The clearing filled with a stilted and frosty silence and, again, it was Pein who spoke first.

“The distribution of the bijuu has kept the shinobi villages in balance for over a century,” Pein pointed out methodically, reluctantly giving the idea some credence. “Disrupting that balance will plunge the Elemental Nations into a war unlike anything we’ve seen before. While I agree that using violence and pain to show others the error of their warmongering ways is the most efficient path to peace, people cannot change if they are dead.”

“This is true,” Obito allowed. “But I did not mean freeing the current bijuu or redistributing the jinchuuriki to villages outside the Great Five -- I meant that we remove them from play entirely. I intend to seal them away from this plane of existence.”

Pein’s shock was palpable, even as his face remained immobile.

“Explain.” Obito’s chest throbbed in anticipation.

“The bijuu were never meant to be sealed, never meant to be contained within mortal hosts. They are beings of pure chakra, children of the Sage himself, and the closest any of us can claim as deities. Ever since they were sealed, they have caused us nothing but pain and destruction. There’s evidence of it everywhere: in the blood of every Sand-nin slayed by the Ichibi, in the madness that has infected the Mist Kage’s mind at the hands of the Sanbi, in the obliteration of half of Konoha by an escaped Kyuubi, or the most recent rampage of the Hachibi. Bijuu and humans were never meant to mix.”

Obito could see he was finally getting through to the other man by the thoughtful frown gracing the meat puppet’s face. He began to press his advantage.

“The jinchuuriki are weapons of mass destruction hoarded by the biggest, most violent of the shinobi villages as a form of deterrent, even while they suffer from that same weapon every day. They give an unfair advantage to those in possession of them and are a source of constant political turmoil. If they weren’t a factor, if we could ensure that _ no one _ could utilize that type of power… Well, that would even the scales, would it not? Then smaller nations such as Amegakure would no longer be caught between major powers and ripped to pieces because of their squabbles.”

Pein tilted his head as he considered Obito’s logic.

“Lack of bijuu does not change the logistical benefit of manpower and territory that each of the Great Five possess. It is, ultimately, nothing more than a patch for the symptoms of a larger problem: war.”

Obito nodded along because this was, ultimately, true.

“Yes, but that’s only if we leave off at the _ physical removal _of the bijuu,” Obito said leadingly. Pein’s eyes narrowed in thought.

“You intend to use the bijuu’s collective power?” he questioned severely, his mouth a sharp slash of disapproval. “You just mentioned that the unconsented use of their powers by shinobi has resulted in only devastation, and now you wish to use it yourself? To do what? Take over the world?” the man finished derisively, his lip curling up nastily. 

Obito could feel his hackles rising at Pein’s tone. The rebel leader may have Obito beat by almost a decade in years, but Obito was a _ formally _ trained shinobi with an indisputable pedigree and more years of open combat experience than this half-trained bastard had accumulated during his many years of fostering peace alongside his fellow idealists. It took a great deal of willpower to viciously stamp down the desire to show this uppity fool just who was in charge and laugh instead.

“Me? Rule the world? Don’t be preposterous!” Obito laughed out through gritted teeth. “What a nightmare! Can you just _ imagine _the paperwork?”

Pein stared at him impassively while Obito slowly calmed down from his false amusement.

“No, I have a different use in mind,” Obito finally stated plainly before tilting his head ponderously. “Tell me, have you ever heard of the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter?”

“How is this relevant?”

“No? Perhaps you know of it by its other name: The Tale of Kaguya-hime?” He saw Pein’s eyebrows shoot up in recognition before furrowing together in confusion.

“It’s an old wives’ tale about the origin of shinobi, mostly regarded as a legend fabricated by civilians to explain what they consider to be unexplainable: the use and molding of chakra,” Pein summarized succinctly. “I still don’t see how it’s relevant.”

Obito hummed in thought, gazing out into the forest before once again focusing on the man in front of him.

“So you do know it,” Obito said musedly. “Tell me what you remember of it.” 

Pein’s lips thinned in irritation even as he began to speak.

“A man cuts a glowing bamboo shoot and finds a small girl inside. She grows into a beautiful woman who eventually marries the Emperor of the Land of Ancestors. She defends herself from attackers from the Land of That and has to flee execution for her treachery. In her anger, she eats a magical fruit which grants her the ability to mold chakra and, with it and the force of the moon, she ensnares the whole of humanity into an illusion and single-handedly ends war. But the birth of her two sons makes her miss humanity’s unique soul and so she frees the world from her grasp and ascends back into the heavens to rejoin her people -- having learned the lesson they’d sent her to Earth to learn in the first place.” 

Obito hummed again before smiling.

“While the majority of that might be complete bullshit, one can’t help but wonder if the technique she used to stop all wars, the illusion that ends all fighting… was a genjutsu.” Obito could see the exact moment the implications of what he was saying sunk into Pein’s consciousness. The gaping jaw on such a taciturn and seemingly unflappable man practically made Obito’s day.

“You seek to force the world to accept peace out of desperation, to spread pain and hurt so far and wide that there will be a public outcry for its end. In completing my plan, you will indeed accomplish those things, but you will also offer people a glimpse of what they need to make it end. The human race has been at war since the Great Empire collapsed. That’s _three hundred years _ of fighting each other for power and land and money. We have forgotten what it means to be at peace. We cannot trust in it because we have never truly experienced it. But, if we can manage to trap everyone _ temporarily _ in a genjutsu that builds each person’s perfect world… one without death or pain or war or fear… Once people know that true peace _ can _ exist, don’t you think that they’ll leap at the chance to achieve it?”

Pein was staring at him intensely, some unknown emotion quivering through his dead friend’s limbs as he absorbed what Obito was saying -- what he was _ offering. _

“What exactly is it that you would want from us in this alliance?” Pein asked quietly, and Obito knew he hadn’t imagined the hoarseness in his voice. He went in for the kill.

“The use of the missing-nin you are recruiting to create a task force charged with hunting down and capturing all the bijuu. A team that would eventually serve as a distraction to keep the shinobi villages unfocused and unaware while I use the collected power of the bijuu to put the genjutsu into effect. I am but one man. I cannot do this alone.”

Pein remained silent for many long minutes, staring into space as he contemplated all the details and implications of Obito’s deal. It would not be an easy task, but it was one that Obito hoped the man would embrace with the entirety of his vengeance-soaked heart. The rebel leader finally stirred, turning those dull and lifeless eyes to Obito’s own even as his lips softened in agreement.

“I find these terms acceptable. However, I will need to confer with my compatriots on the details. Shall we hold a more formal meeting at another time?” Pein asked. Obito felt a smile cut across his face like a dagger.

“Perfect.”

Pein nodded his head in acceptance as he spoke, "Send your summons to Ame in a week’s time and I will provide a location for a secondary meeting.”

Obito gave a slightly mocking bow at the man’s haughty tone.

“Of course. I am available at your leisure,” Obito purred out in satisfaction before he turned on his heel to leave. He could still feel Pein’s partially incredulous attention on his back and couldn’t help but get in one last needling remark.

“One small, parting piece of advice, Pein. Playing god? Never ends well for the pretender,” Obtio stated blandly, flicking a look over his shoulder to gauge the other man’s reaction.

Pein’s lips pinched together viciously at the jab but Obito was already turning away, his mangekyou activated in case the man decided to be petty enough for a physical rebuttal. The attack never came, though, and Obito marched peacefully onwards in a direction opposite his current hideout. It took nearly a half hour of walking before he could confirm that no one was tailing him and Obito let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief as he slowed to a stop.

“My, what pretty lies you told, Obi-chan. They formed such a convincing web for our flies to get caught in.”

The sudden presence of Zetsu would have been a surprise if Obito hadn’t already noted the sudden and strange absence of noise in the surrounding forest. The natural world always went silent when Zetsu was present. 

There was a sudden, jarring sound off to his right, one that he’d never been able to force out of his memory and that never failed to rake across his nerves like nails on glass. It was the slurping, sloshing sound of cells bending out of shape, of space being displaced while time stayed still. Unlike the smooth wind of Kamui, Zetsu’s abilities always seemed unnatural, as if the very Earth rebelled at the feel of their chakra soaking in and transforming things which were not meant to transform.

Zetsu’s face and shoulders slowly emerged from the side of a large redwood at Obito’s eye-level, their mismatched eyes boring unblinkingly into his own. The white side of their face was smiling at Obito curiously, like they were the spider of their metaphor and Obito the fly they had caught. The black half was, as usual, scowling at him in disapproval and judgement, their face locked in a rictus parody of their true Master. Madara had always been a very dour man and Black Zetsu took after him perfectly.

“But, hmmm… what’s that human phrase? Ah, yes. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? No? So, why do you _ lie? _ Something to hide, Obi-chan?” White Zetsu continued to purr out, their right hand gripping at the treebark harshly in order to stabilize their almost undulating movements.

“I lied because Pein is an optimist. Because, despite all the anger that’s choking him right now, he still believes that humanity is salvageable. He would never agree to our plan if he thought the genjutsu was permanent.”

Zetsu watched him considerately, tilting their head back and forth in thought.

“A fair judgement. And you, Obito? You don’t believe that humans would change their ways if shown the truth of Peace?” Black Zetsu growled the question slyly, their large golden eye shining bright in the darkness of their face while White Zetsu’s lips curled up in a teasing smile.

Obito couldn’t help but snort.

“Fuck no. Humans are greedy and hateful and always corruptible. No peace brokered will ever last for long and no country will be content with their share. War will always be inevitable as long as we humans have the free will to make our own decisions.”

“So negative, Obi-chan,” White Zetsu whined, even as their smile grew bigger, putting their sharpened teeth on full display.

Obito looked away into the distance as his mind filled with the echoes of his past. He could still remember the sallow and pale faces of his disease-ridden parents and the ranks of Leaf-nin on the front lines, entrenched and stubborn and all but dead men walking. He saw the ripped flesh of Kakashi’s face after he’d lost his eye and the blood and dust smeared on Rin’s terror filled face. The smell of blood in a body-strewn field and the screams of a once-innocent little boy ricocheted through his mind and he found that he couldn’t bring himself to look back at his long-time partner, even as he replied with a voice scraped raw with grief.

“No, not negative. Realistic. The only way to gain peace is to force it upon everyone equally and then ensure that they never emerge into reality again. The Earth will finally be at peace when humanity is put to rest. For good.” It was human nature to cause destruction and the only way to make sure the past didn’t repeat itself was to ensure that there were no more humans present to recreate it. 

Zetsu made a warbling sound of agreement.

“This is true. But humans are curious creatures, always sniffing about where they’re unwanted. They’ll begin to ask questions, the closer we come to success. We don’t need rebellion in the final stages of operation,” Black Zetsu snarled, their voice a sullen and vicious growl that broke almost violently as they ranted about the human condition. It was odd, Obito often thought, how the manifestation of Madara’s will seemed to have more contempt for the human race than White Zetsu, a creature born of pure chakra and no mortal limitations.

“Stop worrying, Zetsu. By the time Pein realizes he’s been led astray, it’ll be too late to stop us.”

“You’d best hope that’s true, Obi-chan, or Madara-sama will be very cross with you,” White Zetsu cooed out softly before slowly merging back into the bark of the tree, the slurping, twisting sound scraping across Obito’s senses once again until only a single eye and their mouth remained.

“You could always eat him,” Obito pointed out laconically and they giggled at him happily.

“That’s true! The stubborn ones are always the most… chewy,” they sighed out with relish and Obito forced himself to ignore the implications. Zetsu seemed to shake themselves out of whatever fantasy they’d descended into and crooked another sharp toothed grin in his direction even as their one exposed eye glinted sharply in the moonlight.

“We’ll see you later, Obi-chan. And remember: don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” they sing-songed childishly.

Then, in less than a blink of an eye, Zetsu retreated fully into nothingness. The unnatural quiet of the forest slowly abated as the animals and the very air itself seemed to relax and breathe again at their absence. The tree looked unaffected, but Obito knew that it was now dead, unable to withstand prolonged contact with Zetsu’s strange and writhing chakra. Slowly, cell by cell, it would begin rotting until nothing was left but a husk.

In his darkest moments, Obito couldn’t help but wonder what it said about him as a person that he withstood countless months ensconced in the very heart of that chakra while Zetsu helped him heal and move after the cave-in. Most days, he made the executive decision to ignore the thought entirely.

This day was no different.

Obito shook his macabre thoughts away and allowed himself to sigh in resignation and guilty relief at the creature’s rapid exit. Lately, meetings with Zetsu had become uncomfortable things to be endured, rather than enjoyable chats with an odd ally. He used to tell Zetsu everything, but ever since he’d discovered Kouichi’s existence, he’d started to keep secrets. Zetsu was becoming more and more curious. _ Where is Obi-chan going for days on end? Why is Obi-chan so distracted? Why does Obi-chan hesitate? _

It was causing tension and anxiety between the two of them that had never been there before, one that was inflamed even more because Obito had the sneaking suspicion that Zetsu wouldn’t support him in his personal endeavor to protect his son. Would, in fact, be very, very angry. It made him wary and paranoid in a way that he couldn’t quite understand -- especially since it was towards _ Zetsu _ of all people. 

The secrets made his head ache and his heart throb uncomfortably in his chest and Obito couldn't help but think that somehow, someway, _ something _ would have to break.

And only the Sage of Six Paths knew what the fallout would be like.

~

Obito paused as he pinned up another map in his war room. The Plan was coming together well now, the resources that Pein could bring to the table making everything that much closer. Even today’s correspondence regarding recruitment was hopeful, of more people acting to bring the Plan closer to fruition. 

Perhaps one day in the not-too-distant-future, he would see Rin again.

Obito sat at his desk with a slow exhale. He tried not to think about it too much, lest it be a distraction, but with things going so well, was it such a bad thing to imagine her? Her joy when she realized he had done it, had created a world without conflict or pain? They could travel together, and explore new jutsus just for the fun of it, and she would smile to see all of her friends again. He could take her to some of the restaurants he had patronized, the ones that served foods that weren’t found in Konoha, and show her the hidden sites of high mountain peaks and seaside beaches.

Maybe he could court her, and express his love, and just maybe she would reciprocate. Obito smiled at the idea of that, genuinely hopeful. In the future, when they settled down, they could talk about more children, there was no way she wouldn’t love and adore Kouichi…

Something tugged at that thought, pulling Obito away from the pleasant imaginings. 

Right. Somehow he’d have to explain to Rin how Kouichi had come about, and that would be… painful, for all involved parties. Who knew what additional scars had been left on Kakashi’s psyche, and the isolation he and Kouichi had been living in… But Rin was their teammate, she would care so much and be so kind to Kouichi, Kakashi surely wouldn’t object to that, to having another person who would love and cherish the incredible, brilliant boy...

Except that didn’t quite feel right. Obito stood and slowly walked around the room, trying to chase the threads of his thoughts. If it wasn’t Kakashi’s reaction that would be the biggest obstacle, then what was? 

He tapped his fingers on his desk slowly, a frown overtaking his face. The whole point of the plan was to erase tragedy from the world and from people’s lives, allowing their loved ones to live as they were meant to--

What would have happened to Kakashi if he hadn’t killed Rin? The thought made his blood boil, but he forced himself to think through it, because it would be important for all of them. It probably would have spared Kakashi some pain, not losing the Yondaime and his wife, not joining ANBU and ROOT…

Where Danzo had discovered that Kakashi was an Omega. 

Where Danzo had made his plan to create an Uchiha army. 

Obito realized that his breath was coming too fast, and his thoughts began to race like an out of control katon. Danzo’s actions were unforgivable, inexcusable, would be called evil and immoral even by most shinobi standards--

And without them, Kouichi would not exist. 

If he erased all the horrors of the world with the Moon Plan--

_ No_, he gasped in his mind, realizing that his hands were shaking. It wasn’t that simple, it never was. He was overreacting. The Plan was perfect, it accounted for all variables, it must account for this one as well. It _ must. _

Obito made himself breathe. That was the truth. There had to be a way, his reaction was incorrect, he simply had to check. 

He threw open his books. He had the calculations and theories laid out, he could and would fix this.

~ 

Obito slumped back, exhausted and uncomprehending as mad scribbles glared back up at him in mockery, hours of work funneling towards inevitability. 

The Eye in the Moon Plan was perfect because it relied on logic for each person. Within their perfect world, they would know how they came to that point, and it would make sense. Creating a genjutsu that arbitrarily changed everyone’s life without any basis in reality at all would create too many vulnerabilities that people could exploit to break the jutsu. Links to reality strengthened the illusion, making it possible to create perfect worlds that people wouldn’t question. 

But certain facts of reality could not be changed. The genjutsu could not make someone born crippled suddenly able to walk, or someone born blind able to see, because they had no experience with that. It could not change a person’s parents, because without that specific combination that person could not exist. 

Genetics were finicky. The sheer odds of a particular sperm and egg combining were truly astronomical, with only random chance dictating the genes that could one day contribute to a person. 

And backtracking to calculate the odds of the specific arrangement of genes a person inherited being in a given sperm… the infinitesimally small numbers stared back up at him. 

Maybe he could have let this slide, except that Kouichi’s conception had been… atypical, in almost every possible way. 

He pushed away from the desk, his head spinning as he buried his hand in his hair, pulling hard to distract himself from the building hurricane in his brain. 

Kakashi had definitely always had the egg that became Kouichi, but Obito’s DNA had come from an altered sample from Danzo. There was no way to know for sure what alterations had been made, no way to know if _ Obito _ had ever produced the combination that resulted in Kouichi. 

And even if he did, in what scenario, in a perfect world, where neither he nor Kakashi had suffered the way they had, would they have willingly had a child together? And not just _ any _ child, but _ Kouichi _specifically?

Obito couldn’t think of a solution. There was an overwhelming pressure in his head, building and building until he thought he might explode, until the inevitable realization nearly knocked him flat on his ass. 

_ He couldn't have them both. _

He felt something in his chest crack open at the thought, with an almost audible sound. It sounded like his soul tearing in two, like his heart breaking, like his mind ripping itself to shreds because his entire fucking world was _ ending. _ He couldn’t have both of them. It didn’t work that way. He could either save Rin, have her alive and brilliant and _ his _ in a world that was shining and perfect and golden, or he could have Kouichi. Beautiful, excitable, innocent Kouichi, who was his son, his baby boy, so full of life and love that he fucking shone with it but ultimately, tragically, a product of a broken and fucked up world.

For all that Obito wanted to build a world safe and peaceful for all people, his motivations had always been inherently selfish. He wanted, more than anything, for his loved ones to be safe and alive and _ there, _no matter the cost. But now… now there was no paradise, no perfect world that would fit into his gaping chest and make him whole in a way he hadn’t been since his parents’ bodies were burned by the Clan doctors while he sobbed brokenly into the dusty, bitter earth. And now he lay splayed out, gutted and hurting and achingly tired, once again sobbing at the unfairness of it all, but nothing answered him except the echoes of his own, lost cries as they reverberated throughout the cold and empty expanse of his hideout. 

There was no kindness or mercy to be found in life. He’d known that almost from his first breath in this Sage-forsaken world, but all Obito had ever wanted, desperately, was to just be _ happy. _

It shouldn’t have been so fucking difficult.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Rebuild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! We’re back up and running! We're so, so sorry about how slow we've been with updating lately. We hope all of you are safe and healthy with everything going on with Covid-19. Just follow social distancing and use the time to write, read, and leave comments--we’ve got a good community of creative people here.
> 
> Real life was a thing that happened -- last year was… very, very busy for all of us. Shy spent six months working in a foreign country before moving back, then getting a different job and having to move again. Tes and Dream, meanwhile, have been working their butts off at med and vet school respectively. Tes has actually got a big exam coming up next month (and the first medical board exam this summer) so wish her luck! And give digital cookies to Shy because she got an actual, adult, long term, fabulous job! 
> 
> And give thanks to Dream for being the best beta ever even when they're sleep deprived and overworked. We hope you guys like this installment! *Hides in our blanket fort awaiting your reactions*
> 
> Shy & Tes
> 
> P.S. Also, please remember that Obito is the epitome of an unreliable narrator XD

After several days of listless depression, his chest felt so heavy that it was amazing he still drew breath. Obito forced himself to leave the war room. The sunlight hammered at his eyes, but at least the air smelled like something other than salt and pain. Everything hurt, as though he had been scraped over the broken shards of what should have been his perfect world.

His thoughts were suffocating, pressing down on his lungs until he couldn’t breathe, and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the war room, while sheltering and safe, had begun to feel more like a cage. He needed to leave, to move, to _ breathe _ and he wouldn’t manage it there — the place of his dream’s destruction. He clutched his chest desperately, closed his eyes, and let Kamui take him. 

Against his will, he found himself back in his tree, the one with the perfect view of the Hatake cabin. Obito bit his lip until it bled, torn between the desire to laugh hysterically or scream until his throat ripped itself apart. He hadn’t intended to come here, to the very heart of his problems, but his mind had been blank and his instincts had ripped him through Kamui to the place he felt safest.

What a fucking joke.

He could hear the sounds of training down below, but couldn’t force his gaze to follow. He stared, instead, at the sky. Clouds filled his vision, soft and white and billowing in the breeze, and a flock of geese were slowly making their way west.

It was odd, Obito thought, that the world should be so calm in the face of his own suffering. His mind felt bruised, his heart shredded, and his bones ground to dust and yet the sun still shone and the trees still grew and young shinobi still trained. Obito wanted to rip apart the world at the seams for daring to be so cruel, for making him feel insignificant and weak when he was supposed to be powerful and driven. He was a man destined to change the world, and yet all he wanted at that moment was to curl into a ball and cry.

Pathetic. Spineless. _ Crybaby. _

All things he wanted to leave behind in the past with the snivelling little boy he used to be. It was those thoughts that snapped him out of the spiralling chaos of his mind, that drenched him in cold reality and determination. It was an odd feeling, not originating from his throbbing chest like he expected, but instead seeming to bloom in his mind -- cold and sharp and clear in a way Obito was no longer used to feeling.

It reminded him of his mother’s sharp smile and bared teeth as she walked through the Uchiha compound or his father’s frozen eyes and straight spine as he stared down a superior he thought was in the wrong. It was the same determination he used to feel throbbing through his own bones as he stared down the Academy obstacle course, broken and bruised and aching, yet still determined to run it one more time, _ just one more time. _

That determination was the only part of his old self he’d never managed to hate, and it was just enough to force his gaze back down to earth, to come face to face with one of the sources of his conflict. 

Kouichi was running through katas, face calm and blank as he flowed from one form to another. The part of Obito’s brain that was always thinking, always running no matter what his state of mind, noticed that they were kata that would normally be taught to the fourth year class at the Academy, despite the fact that Kouichi was only five. 

The thrum of pride he felt ignited the throbbing in his chest to new levels and he quickly looked away, unable to focus on the boy just yet.

His eyes naturally gravitated to Kakashi, who was training nearby, stripped down to a tank-top and loose pants. He moved slowly through a set, clearly focusing on precision over speed. Which was… strange.

Obito frowned, intrigued in spite of himself and subconsciously grateful for the distraction. He squinted his eyes and tried to get a closer look. It almost looked like the gray-haired jounin was doing tai chi. Each movement flowed to the next, always in motion with only small changes in muscle activation. 

_ Why is Bakashi doing tai chi? He isn’t _ that _ old... _ Obito thought to himself, frowning as he crossed his arms. He was older than Kakashi, he knew what he was talking about!

Then Kakashi ended his set and Obito’s gaze inadvertently flicked towards the boy, and Obito quickly jerked his gaze back up to the sky. The late September sunlight was hot even in the shade of the tree, a host of insects filling the air with noise that still didn’t tune out Kakashi’s low rumbling voice or Kouichi’s response. The sound of the kid’s voice, young and sweet and excited, was too much.

Obito ripped his way back into Kamui and fled as far and as fast as he could. He’d be ashamed of his cowardice if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of all the things he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.

~

  
No matter how painful it was or how many times he told himself how fucking stupid it was, Obito couldn’t stop himself from returning to that secluded little valley. Each visit felt like a dagger digging beneath his skin, but he couldn’t make himself stay away, just like he couldn’t make himself look at Kouichi. Watching his son train and play and live used to be his favorite thing to do, a breath of fresh air in a world that had nothing to offer but putrid violence. Now, the mere sight of his son’s face made Obito feel cold and nauseated, like he’d been spread thin enough to crack. However, each visit hurt a little less than the last and, even if it was hopeless and meaningless with the knowledge Obito now had about the future, he was desperate to be able to look at his son again without feeling like the world was ending. 

Obito wanted to watch him, to memorize him, for as long as he could.

So, Obito continued to visit and, bit by bit, was able to throw off the cloak of grief long enough to stay for more than a couple minutes at a time, even if he still couldn’t bring himself to look at his son’s face.

The two Hatake were training again, weapons this time, and Obito stared into the forest blindly as Kakashi’s instructions floated up towards him on the breeze.

Slowly, he glanced down again, his heart rate ratcheting up the closer he came to laying eyes on his son. For the first time since he’d had his revelation, Obito’s fear began to make him mad. This was his_ son _, and no matter how he’d come into being or how grim the future might look, Obito didn’t want to miss any more of his son’s life. With a snarl of self-directed frustration, Obito finally focused on his son for the first time in weeks and the sight, as simple as it was, blew him away.

Kouichi was frowning as he threw kunai at the small, homemade target. The boy’s aim was as impeccable as ever, minus a few wild shots when the boy inevitably got distracted. In fact, there were quite a few more bad shots than normal for the boy, an observation that made Obito frown thoughtfully. Kouichi seemed more hesitant than usual, as though he was thinking about something else. His precision was also suffering, each kunai hitting the target but not clustered around the center like usual. 

Even as Obito noted the oddness, Kakashi knelt next to the boy. Obito found it easier to focus on Kakashi’s bright, outrageous hair than his son’s face. It was a thought that hurt, but it was better than running.

“Alright, hold up,” Kakashi reached out to place a calm, restraining hand on Kouichi’s shoulder. “Where’s your mind today, pup?”

Kouichi immediately dropped his arms to the side even as he turned and grinned at his mother cheekily. 

“Nowhere!”

Kakashi’s eye crinkled and he reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You sure about that?”

The boy’s expression slowly faded into something more thoughtful as he plopped into a seated position on the ground, legs folded up like a pretzel in the way only young children could manage. “I was just wondering, does everyone have a mama and a daddy?”

Obito’s eyebrows flew up. What had brought that topic on? 

“Well, everyone needs a mom and a dad to make a baby, but sometimes families can look different than that for a lot of reasons,” Kakashi replied lightly, folding his legs to sit easily in a way that made Obito envious. It wasn’t the twisted up, impossible flexibility that Kouichi was capable of, but it was still more than Obito could do without excessive pain. Just the thought of moving some days was enough to make Obito’s scars ache and his muscles, both real and synthetic, throb with old pain.

“What brought this up?” Kakashi’s prodding brought Obito out of his own head and he fixed his gaze on a buckle of the silver-haired jounin’s vest as he tuned back into the conversation.

“But do you have a mama and a daddy? And did my daddy have them, too?” Kouichi asked instead, also sitting down. “Grandpa Saru talks about how he’s a grandpa to his kid’s kid, too, so where are you and Daddy’s mamas and dads?” 

Obito couldn’t breathe, his eyes blown wide in shock. The question hurt, like he’d been drop-kicked in the chest. How could it not, when his thoughts were flooded with memories and names and the lives of family members long since deceased, when his thoughts and tongue grew heavy with all the stories he knew that he would never be able to tell Kouichi himself? 

Kakashi stilled, a faint hint of tension appearing in his shoulders before Obito watched him push it away. “Everyone has parents like that, including me and your dad.” Kakashi tugged Kouichi over towards him, and the boy happily came, bumping up against the gray-haired shinobi. He didn’t seem to quite notice the conflict in Kakashi’s body language, but that was expected. 

Obito only saw it because Kakashi didn’t know to hide it from him. 

“My mother died when I was a baby, but her name was Natsu, and I know she played the shamisan. It’s an instrument,” Kakashi elaborated at Kouichi’s confused look. “I’ll see if I can get one of your uncles to bring a recording soon. My father raised me but... he died when I was pretty young, too.” Kakashi hesitated again, seeming to struggle with what to say next. 

Obito was curious despite himself -- Hatake Sakumo had been a topic of No Discussion for a long time within Team Seven. The only time Obito had directly talked about him was at Kanabi Bridge, and… well. That entire clusterfuck of a mission was best left forgotten. 

“His name was Sakumo. He was a good man. He was dedicated to his duty, but he made time for me as well. You know that legend you like about the pirate who stole the sea-witch’s shadow? He used to read that to me, until I told him I was too old for stories.” Even from a distance and under his mask, Obito could practically feel the rueful smile of regret. “He liked green curry and cold udon, and he was kind, even when he shouldn’t have been.”

“Do you miss him?” Kouichi asked innocently, tilting his head to meet Kakashi’s eyes.

“I…” Obito watched as Kakashi took another moment to collect himself, stunned stupid at the sight of the younger man’s emotions. Obito had spent years listening to Kakashi’s grief stricken words at the Memorial Stone, and yet it had never really touched him. The grief had been mostly cold and silent when it wasn’t laced with false cheer and it had stung Obito like an acid through his anger. 

This, though… this was raw and unprotected, Kakashi at his most vulnerable where only his son could hear. Obito had _ known, _ but not seen Kakashi’s grief and seeing it… seeing it was something else. Kakashi’s face looked eerily similar to Obito’s own during the rare times he looked at his reflection. 

“It’s complicated, but I do. We had a big fight before he died, and I was angry about something that happened. I wish I could have talked to him again and told him that he was a good dad.”

Kouichi threw his arms around Kakashi, obviously sensing his mother’s emotional turmoil, and Obito crossed his arms as he looked away. He hadn’t known that, that Kakashi also missed his parents and that he had wished for more time with them. Kakashi had always treated the topic of family coldly, like it was beneath his notice when they were teammates and, later, as if it was not worth discussing simply because there was nothing to be done that could change it. Kakashi had always been insultingly pragmatic like that. But this wistfulness...

Well, it was something they had in common.

Kakashi was hugging Kouichi back fiercely when Obito managed to look back up, before letting go and firmly changing the subject. “I don’t know too much about your daddy’s parents. They died before we were on the same genin team.”

And that hurt, again, that Obito couldn’t tell Kouichi what he knew, what he remembered, that he couldn’t give him that piece of his history--

“I’ve got one memory though.”

Obito blinked in befuddlement as Kakashi lifted his hands to trace the scene. 

_ That was another habit the younger shinobi had, _ Obito thought distractedly,  _ He likes to speak with his hands when he’s around those he trusts. _

“My father and I were looking for a new carpet for the house. I was probably only three or so, but I remember the colors on the carpets and tapestries in the little shop. There were dozens of them, probably more, with styles and patterns that I didn’t think someone could make with needles. The owner was sitting there, and helped my father pick out a blue one with silver patterns. She had a very kind smile and she had made everything in that shop with her own two hands.”

“Wow! She must’ve been super cool!”

“She was. That was your grandmother,” Kakashi finished, smiling gently as Kouichi gasped and babbled excitedly. 

Obito realized he was staring with his mouth agape. That Kakashi had stored that memory, any memory, of his mother and that he could share it with Kouichi…

It soothed a hurt in him, so precisely sharp that it was a surprise when the edge was dulled. 

And for all the animosity Obito still felt towards the younger man, he was suddenly, fiercely glad that it was Kakashi of all people that could share these things with Kouichi. If Obito couldn’t do it… somehow, Kakashi wasn’t a poor substitute.

Kakashi knew. He knew what it was like to mourn what-could-have-been’s, to look back and wonder what it would have been like if the world was less cruel, and Obito had never known that about him. It… it didn’t fit, couldn’t fit, with the Kakashi of Team Seven. Kakashi was stubborn, and uncomprehending of anything less than perfection, and lacking all but basic empathy.

And yet this was also Kakashi, trying to comfort his son and give Kouichi some piece of his history, and admitting that he actually felt something.

Obito looked away, his eyes unfocused as his mind roiled. 

~ 

Obito settled himself on the rooftop, hidden from view from anyone who decided to use Konoha’s roofs to travel as he observed the unfolding situation. 

“Alright, stir for one minute, then turn the heat off.” 

“Why?” 

“The compounds need to be heat activated to make the poison reach peak potency, but if they get too hot then the proteins denature and it’s useless.” 

Sasuke nodded thoughtfully, his hands never stilling as he carefully stirred the small beaker on top of the Bunsen burner. Shiranui stood by him, carefully supervising as he passed on the secrets of making compound poisons to the Uchiha heir. 

It had been unexpected when Sarutobi had assigned Sasuke to a foster guardian after the massacre. Shinobi didn’t do such things, too proud of their self-sufficiency, but clearly the harm done to Kakashi had been enough to spur Sarutobi to action. Obito had watched as he had built safeguards and protections into the orphanages and children’s programs, making it that much harder for Danzo to recruit from Konoha. All done so sneakily and with good enough PR results that Danzo couldn’t act against them. 

The careful masterminding had been impressive, and had culminated in Sasuke’s current living situation. 

The door to the side room opened and Tenzo stuck his head in, obviously making enough noise to alert the shinobi in the room. Obito knew that Shiranui kept his most toxic and volatile compounds in a workshop in the R&D building, but what he kept in the house could still have nasty effects.

Tenzo’s involvement in Sasuke’s life had been another surprise. At first Obito had been bemused, and had lowered himself to snoop -- even he couldn’t deny that was what it had been -- and had determined that although Tenzo and Shiranui were, for lack of a better term, _ co-parenting _ the Uchiha heir, they were definitively non-romantic in their relationship. Shiranui would go home with a wide variety of partners, usually for a one-night stand every once in a while, although he never brought them back to his home with Sasuke, while Tenzo appeared flatly uninterested in romance at all and got along well with Maito for that reason. Regardless of how the situation appeared externally, they seemed to get along well, and Sasuke seemed to have a stable living environment.

Though Obito couldn’t comprehend how Sarutobi had _ picked _ this pair in the first place, considering they’d never interacted outside of ANBU before being saddled with a traumatized child.

“I picked up dinner,” Tenzo announced, bringing Obito’s attention back to the present as he held up a bag of take-out. 

Sasuke’s face lit up, and Obito took in the expression. He had only seen his cousin a handful of times after the massacre, when he’d been angry and grieving. Now he seemed happier, smiling brightly in a way that Obito could never remember seeing on anyone’s face in the Uchiha compound. 

“Are there tomatoes?” 

“Yup. I’m glad that at least one of you likes vegetables,” Tenzo added pointedly as he unloaded the bag on the table. Shiranui stuck his tongue out over Sasuke’s head, and Tenzo rolled his eyes, the clear rhythm of an old argument. The three of them settled down to eat, chatting lightly as Sasuke told them about his day at the Academy. 

Obito frowned. He knew Itachi’s intention, knew that his wish was to die by Sasuke’s hand. Even with the explanation of the Eye in the Moon Plan -- _ don’t think about it, don’t linger on it, don’t let the screaming pit of pain take control -- _the young missing-nin still did not believe a perfect world could ever exist. 

From the looks of it, Sasuke’s upbringing might stop him from pursuing blind, furious vengeance regardless of Itachi’s desperate wishes. Obito made a note to keep an eye on Itachi. If he thought Sasuke was unable to finish the task without motivation, it was possible that Itachi would do something… drastic. Obito didn’t know why that thought made his skin prickle uncomfortably. He hadn’t cared about the massacre, when he’d discovered the plot during his regular rounds through the Konoha and Root archives. He hadn’t had a reason to care, to stop it, and so he hadn’t.

Simple as that.

But… looking at this boy, just a few scant years older than Kouichi, smiling and content in a sun-bright kitchen, Obito couldn’t imagine letting Itachi destroy it in his pursuit of death. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t _ matter, _ and he certainly had no right, but he made the executive decision to not care about the ‘whys.’ 

Thinking about _ why _ he felt the way he did never led to anything but pain, confusion, and a tight feeling in his lungs. It was just easier to push it down and away no matter how fucking cowardly it felt.

“So, kiddo, what are you doing in class now? Has Iruka-sensei given you guys the birds and the bees talk yet?” Shiranui teased, waving his chopsticks languidly. 

Sasuke rolled his eyes at his guardian as he precisely picked out the tomatoes in his dish to eat first. “We’re working on substitution jutsu, and hand-to-hand combat. We talked about the history of Tea Country, too.” 

“Think you’ll be a budding diplomat?” 

Sasuke’s face contorted comically at the thought, and both Shiranui and Tenzo chuckled. 

Obito tilted his head in consideration. In all of his memories, no Uchiha -- especially one from the main family -- ever spoke so casually or showed their emotions so openly. Perhaps being raised by non-Uchihas had been good for him. 

Despite everything, the thought still felt slightly treasonous.

Obito reviewed his options. Sasuke had the potential to play a wide variety of roles in his plans, or no role at all, depending on his choices and development over the next few years. He could shepherd the boy, consolidate that power into Akatsuki, but the key was to remove him from the board as an enemy. Neutrality was also a possibility and was, perhaps, the preferable option.

The three of them were finishing washing the dishes when a knock came on the door of the apartment. Sasuke lit up as he dashed over towards the door and opened it--

_ Target was in sight. Blond, blue-eyed, whisker marks on his cheeks confirming the identity of the jinchuuriki. _

_ Obito’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest that his sternum felt bruised. It felt as if there were fingers threading themselves through his ribs, grasping and greedy and pulling hard enough to crack. _

_ The bijuu and the small Uchiha were engaging. Talking and grabbing at one another’s hair and clothes. The former ANBU, the infiltration specialist, and the toad Sannin seemed unconcerned, their voices meaningless noise in the air. _

_ His vision started to tunnel. He could see the bright smile of the Yondaime, hear the loud brash laughter of the former Uzumaki jinchuuriki. _

_ Hyperventilating. That’s what was happening to him. How? Why? The world was too bright and loud, it was too easy to react to any threat. His control felt shredded. He _ hated _ losing control. _

_ The Uchiha and the jinchuuriki had settled down now, their rivalry clear in the air, but with a thread of friendship. That was unwise. It wouldn’t last. They never did. The team always fell apart to arguments and sacrifice and they were going to die no matter how they wanted to change their fate-- _

_ He needed to leave, he couldn’t stay. _

_ The Plan required it. _

~

“But that’s not fair!” 

Obito adjusted his seat, curious. The last week had been strange, he had left Konoha unexpectedly after monitoring Sasuke and had ended up working for three days straight before collapsing and sleeping for twelve hours. Upon waking he had decided to come here, where his mind always felt more settled, although it seemed that things were not peaceful. 

Kouichi had his arms crossed, frowning angrily. Kakashi looked up from his desk, his brush still hovering over the forms he was working on. 

“You were gonna teach me how to fish today!” 

“I know, pup, and I am sorry, but I need to send this paperwork back today.” Kakashi’s voice was tinged with regret, but was calm. Sarutobi’s summons had brought a scroll containing a large packet of papers and forms that morning, and Obito made a mental note to look at what Kakashi had written once Sarutobi filed it. There were very good odds it involved Danzo, and it was always a worthwhile endeavor to keep an eye on the man. 

If he found himself smiling at the coded details of Kouichi’s life in the notes, well, that was his business.

“But you promised we were going to do that _ today!” _ The boy’s fists balled up, and Obito was mildly surprised when he didn’t stamp his foot or something equally as juvenile. Kouichi was usually mild-tempered, so this seemed odd. 

“I can’t right now, pup.” 

“But--”

“Kouichi.” Kakashi’s voice held a little more iron as he cut Kouichi off. “We will go fishing tomorrow. Today I’m going to finish this.” His tone brooked no argument. 

Obito rolled his eyes. Now that was a familiar tone. 

Kouichi stomped across the room, flopping onto the carpet and poking at a book angrily. It still hurt to look at him, to see his son’s face and hear his voice and know that it wouldn’t last as long as his plans rolled inevitably onward. Focusing on his son made him doubt, and doubt made his chest _ hurt _ and the hurt made him want to run, but he didn’t want to leave. It was somehow easier to focus his gaze on Kakashi, even with every other sense turned towards Kouichi. 

Kakashi had already turned back to the desk and continued filling the forms, ignoring the pouting boy in the corner. 

This continued for the next half hour, Obito feeling vaguely bored. He should go and check up on plans, but… he really didn’t feel like it. 

He shied away from that train of thought, away from why some of his work on the Plan was less appealing. 

The two Hatakes stayed silent. Eventually, Kakashi stood, meandering down the hallway towards the bathroom. 

Unexpectedly, Kouichi jumped to his feet. Obito blinked as the boy crossed the room to the papers on the table. Sure, he knew Kouichi was a reasonably good reader, but the forms were all written in legalese that was impossible for any kid to read-- 

With barely any hesitation, Kouichi grabbed one of the forms and ripped it in half. 

Obito almost fell off his branch. 

_ Is he throwing a tantrum?! Is… is that what this is?! What the fuck?! _

_ ...Kakashi is going to lose his shit. _

He had very vivid memories of how Kakashi acted when someone fell below his expectations -- which was always. He would be furious, and the last people he had disciplined had been ANBU jounin, which was very different from disciplining a small child! An amorphous feeling was bubbling up in Obito’s chest, something that felt alarmingly like fear and strangely like uncertainty.

Kouichi was grabbing each piece of paper and tearing it down the middle, flinging the pieces around him. 

Obito saw the moment Kakashi walked back in the room, Kouichi picking up another paper. The gray-haired man froze, before stepping forward. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Kouichi went still, turning to meet Kakashi’s eyes. 

Then, to Obito’s shock, Kouichi ripped the paper in his hands, not breaking eye contact even after dropping the two halves to the ground. 

_ ...Well, I’ll give him points for gutsiness, _Obito thought, just slightly hysterical. 

In a blink, Kakashi was across the room. Another blink, and he and Kouichi were away from the desk, one hand holding the back of his shirt. Obito swallowed. What would Kakashi do? 

Kouichi glared at Kakashi, who looked utterly impassive. “You promised, and you aren’t supposed to break promises! You’re supposed to be there for your teammates, not ignore them and do stupid scribbles!” 

Obito winced and tensed. Kakashi loved Kouichi, he knew that, but he hadn’t ever seen Kouichi act like that. Oh, this would not turn out well… Obito’s mind was instantly filled with all the horrible things Kakashi would have done to Obito, if he had pulled something similar when they were on Team Seven. Even worse, the punishments his various aunts and uncles favored when their children misbehaved -- belts and weights and isolation and other deterrents Clan families often used to keep their heirs in line. Whatever it was, it would undoubtedly involve a lot of pain and the idea that Kakashi could do something similar to Kouichi, his _ son, _made a cold pit of panic form in Obito’s gut. No, that wouldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allo--

“Nose to the wall.” 

...What? 

“Now!”

Kouichi spun, pushing his nose against the wall, more or less in the corner. 

“You’ll be there for at least ten minutes. It’s your decision if it turns out to be more.” 

Kakashi turned and began picking up his ripped papers, pairing up the halves. 

Obito was confused. Kouichi had ruined Kakashi’s most-likely-Danzo-related-paperwork, intentionally, in a temper tantrum. And Kakashi was just going to make him stand in the corner? And what would standing in the corner do? Was that an actual punishment people used? 

When did that happen?

The next ten minutes were absolutely silent save for the scratch of Kakashi’s pen. Kouichi’s shoulders started shaking after only a few minutes and Obito kept glancing at Kakashi, a slow rising concern pulsing steadily in his chest. The man had to be aware, right? Was this reaction… normal? 

Finally, Kakashi set his pen down, then turned back towards Kouichi. “Do you want to talk now?” 

Kouichi turned, and Obito realized there were tears on his face. Kakashi leaned forward, moving to be at Kouichi’s eye level. The boy sniffled, scrubbing his arm across his face. 

Apparently this nose to the wall thing was effective. Huh. The image of forcing Shimura Danzo to stand with his nose to the wall as a punishment popped into his mind, and Obito had to shove it away before he broke down laughing at the ridiculous thought. 

Kakashi spoke again, and Obito was amazed at how gentle he sounded. “Why were you so angry that you ripped up the papers?” 

Kouichi pouted again, although it looked different than before somehow, more wobbly and uncertain. 

“You promised we were gonna go fishing, but then you had papers instead, and everyone is always doing paperwork.” By the end, Kouichi sounded less petulant and more frustrated. 

Kakashi set a hand on his shoulder, and the boy met his eyes again. “Do you want to know a secret?” 

Kouichi nodded, leaning forward slightly. 

“I hate paperwork, too.” 

Obito frowned, crossing his arms. None of this matched up with anything he knew about Kakashi _ or _child discipline, much less the two of them combined. 

Kouichi looked confused, and Kakashi continued. “Do you know why I do it anyway?” 

The kid shook his head, so sharply that his hair flew. 

“I do paperwork because it’s part of my duty. It lets me work with my team, my bosses, and anyone else who needs my information, so that we can all do our jobs.” He gripped Kouichi’s shoulder just a little tighter. “You will always be my biggest priority, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have responsibilities to other people. As a shinobi, my duty is to protect and help the village and to do my duty.

“I know it’s hard, and I get it. I’d rather be fishing, too. But when I have things I _ need _ to do, I can’t do the things I _ want _to do.” 

Kouichi’s gaze slid away to look at the carpet. “I still don’t like it.” 

“I’m not telling you to like it. I’m telling you so that you understand how being a shinobi works.” 

Kouichi hung his head. “Okay.” He hesitated a moment, then looked up to meet Kakashi’s eyes again. “Mama? I’m sorry I ripped up your paperwork.” 

Kakashi gave a little eye smile. “Thank you for apologizing.” He ruffled Kouichi’s hair affectionately.

Obito had to look away. The whole thing was… wrong, like water running uphill or birds flying backwards. Kakashi wasn’t _ calm _ and _ patient, _ and he didn’t give good explanations about his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how he had expected him to deal with Kouichi but that hadn’t been it. 

How? How had things changed? 

Kakashi had always focused on being the perfect shinobi, independent and vicious, uncaring about the ruthless reputation he built and utterly loyal to the greater good of Konoha. Mistakes were punished with… well, Obito wasn’t sure, but it was undoubtedly unpleasant. 

And there, at the end, the ruffle of the hair, Kakashi was being a parent! 

Which… made sense. Because Kakashi was Kouichi’s mother. Right. There was something about that thought that disturbed him, that made his brain hurt even though he knew it was the absolute truth. 

Obito scowled.

It was just like Kakashi to give him the mother of all existential headaches over something that should have been fucking obvious.

Obito swirled away into Kamui indignantly. He needed some space in order to twist his head back on straight and deal with the burning feeling in his chest.

~

“You _ dare _ to insult us in this way!?”

“What is the true insult, _ sir, _ is your proposed trade tariffs along your western borders!”

Obito was humming softly as he absentmindedly listened to the brewing fight below him. It was supposed to be a peace treaty renewal between the Lands of Stone, Storms, and Fields, but Obito’s subtle genjutsus were making sure that it fell apart at the seams. Destabilization, after all, was key.

The thought felt listless and Obito thunked his head against the rafters grumpily.

“At least you _ have _ a western border over which to trade! We’re nearly ensconced by the Land of Earth! They’d rather conquer us than trade with us any day of the week!”

“Meanwhile, _ we’re _ trapped between Earth and Wind. At least Fire is willing to trade with you! We don’t have that luxury.”

“Oh, _ luxury_, is it? Well--”

Obito sighed as he put another subtle genjutsu into place and the screaming intensified. This used to be Obito’s favorite type of work: subtle, bloodless, but equally as devastating. At the moment he just… didn’t have the heart for it. His chest throbbed in protest, but he was used to the sensation by now and simply ignored it, determined to continue brooding. _ Not _ sulking, like Rin would have undoubtedly accused him of doing. 

He did not _ sulk, _ he _ contemplated. _

And right then, he was contemplating parenthood.

Obito frowned thoughtfully as he looked back down at his hands. A bright blue string was wrapped tightly between the splayed fingers of his left hand, the trailing end held tightly in his right as he wove it into a pattern that he vaguely remembered his mother favoring. The string had come in a multi-colored pack that had struck him as something Kouichi might like.

Yet another gift that he’d never be able to give his son.

The thought made him scowl harder and he only tossed a half-hearted genjutsu down at the gathering of politicians when it became too quiet. Most of his focus was on the string in his hands, weaving it back and forth between his fingers in an almost meditative fashion as Obtio thought. 

For all that Obito had claimed Kouichi as his own, he wasn’t really… parenting, per se. Kouichi didn’t even know he was fucking _ alive. _The kid only knew him as his Stranger Danger forest playmate and even that was probably more than what Obito should have allowed himself. He couldn’t provide for the kid or protect him. Obito was just… useless.

He pulled too hard on the string during the next turn and snapped it clean in half. Obito stared blankly at the frayed ends as the topmost rows of his makeshift weave started to loosen and collapse.

Idly, he wondered if this could be some sort of metaphor for his life. The thought was… not a pleasant one and he had to bite down on his string-entangled fingers to prevent the hysterical giggle from escaping and drawing unwanted attention.

Despite Obito’s childish dreams of marriage and family, he’d never thought about the technicalities of it. It had always been a sepia-toned, shining future full of laughter and happiness and the sound of joyfully running children. Things like nightmares, diapers, and _ tantrums _ had never been factored into his fantasies. An oversight made by a child who didn’t know any better. Now, Obito knew that the reality was very different, knowledge he’d gained from countless hours of watching Kakashi raise their son.

_ Their _son, not just his, because that’s not the way biology worked. The thought made him feel an odd, slight tingling in his gut that he decided to attribute to nausea. But it was the truth and Obito was getting tired of the many lies he told himself. This one would be fairly harmless to confront.

So, what would make someone a good parent?

Patience, most definitely. Obito loved Kouichi with a fierceness that, frankly, scared the shit of him; but, that didn’t mean that he had the patience to deal with some of Kouichi’s more raucous behavior the way a parent should. When Obito truly thought about it, he’d never before had to stay his hand when frustrated or angry and was unused to restraint during his darkest moments. The thought of being responsible for disciplining his misbehaving child without knowing how he’d react… it made him freeze in a state of terrified, all-consuming fear. He’d rather rip his own heart out than ever accidently harm Kouichi, but no one in their right mind would, or _ should, _ trust him with a child. Kakashi though… well, that paperwork tantrum was enough proof that the man could handle such things despite Obito’s previous assumptions.

A sense of humor. Not a trait Obito would think of traditionally for parents, especially considering some of his Uchiha relatives, but one that he thought might be one of the most crucial. Children were precocious and honest to a fault, even when they didn’t want to be, and they always, _ always _ got into mischief. A parent without a sense of humor would probably suffer a nervous breakdown before their kid could whine out their very first “but it’s not _ fair!” _

Honesty, because a child’s trust was precious and lies only bred distrust and suspicion. Lies were the easy way out that inevitably came back to bite the liar in the ass. The one thing Obito had noticed about Kakashi, from day one, was that he never, ever lied to their son. If he didn’t want to tell Kouichi something, he told the boy that he didn’t wish to speak of it. If he thought Kouichi deserved to know, no matter how gruesome or sad, Kakashi would be the one to tell him. It was something that Obito had always admired about the young jounin, even when they’d been kids and it had also infuriated him beyond reasoning. Kakashi had always been brutally honest. The only thing that seemed to have changed since childhood was the fact that Kakashi had learned how to deliver his truths in a way that didn’t draw blood.

Unconditional love. Obito couldn’t help but picture his own parents, drying his tears and holding him close every time he came home dejected and hurt about what his so-called family had called him, about his lackluster grades at school and _ why couldn’t he be good at something?! _ His parents had never discouraged him or told him to give up. They’d always smiled in the face of his fear and sadness and told him that he was _ theirs _ and that they _ loved him _ and he didn’t have to do anything for that to always be the absolute, undeniable truth. Their kind words, their unconditional love and support, had been his bedrock long after they had died.

_ Patience, a sense of humor, honesty, and unconditional love. _

The thoughts brought his mind inevitably, cyclically, _ tirelessly _back to the memory of Rin. 

The argument occurring down below him began to wind down in intensity, though it was nowhere near finished. A single, simple genjutsu would be enough to incite it back into a flaming disaster but Obito was too busy staving off a tension headache to notice or care.

Rin.

It always seemed to come back to her, didn’t it?

The love he felt for her was powerful and beautiful, like the sun’s light reflecting off the forest canopy on a warm summer afternoon. It had kept him alive and mostly sane through every painful second of recovery, through every relapse and phantom pain. It helped him stay warm when his chest first began to ache with a kind of unnatural coldness that he had long grown used to feeling.

Lately, though, Obito had started to notice a change. His love, once so warm and gentle, now felt more like a raging fire -- hot enough to burn him, bright enough to blind him, and strong enough to suffocate the air out of his lungs. It wasn’t a recent change either, but one that had been progressing slowly over the months and years since her death, since Madara had finally passed on to the Pure Lands and left his vitally important mission in Obito’s very capable hands. 

Obito had always been a love sick fool, but he was beginning to feel like the sickness was something that was all too real. He felt diseased, plagued by thoughts and feelings that didn’t fit him quite right, like his skin wasn’t his own and he was stuffed into a body too big for his tiny, shrivelled soul.

It was uncomfortable and disturbing and something he was beginning to realize began a long, long time ago.

His chest felt like it had been consumed by a constant, painful constriction -- like he was choking. His head hurt constantly, throbbing in time with his heartbeat and never allowing him a moment’s rest. The work used to be enough to stave it off, gave him something important to focus on and forget all his bodily aches and pains.

Lately, however, the work had grown stale and repetitive and all he wanted at the end of the day was to curl up outside his son’s window, listen to him sleep, and try to remember how Rin used to make him feel.

He was such a pathetic fool.

Obito wasn’t paying any attention to the meeting down below him, and so he missed it when one secretary’s patience snapped and she ruthlessly browbeat the three ambassadors into polite submission. While the peace treaty was renegotiated and signed, instead of interfering, Obito thought about Rin and how vibrantly alive she had been, how she used to make him feel warm and protected instead of like he’d been set on fucking fire.

He thought about her laugh, how she couldn’t help but snort when something was _ really _ funny, and about how tangled her hair would become in the morning. On the road, she’d always let Obito be the one to finger comb it into some semblance of order and Obito had always cherished the chance to be close to her. He thought about Rin’s nails, how she filed them into points in order to scratch the shit out of anyone who got closer than she was comfortable with, but also allowed her to give the best back scratches in the whole team.

Obito thought about what a wonderful mother Rin would have been, fierce and loyal but not suffocating. She’d have been… amazing. 

It wasn’t a happy thought. Alarmingly, it felt a lot like goodbye.

~

Obito rested his chin on his hand. Technically, he was supposed to be reviewing the reports on Akatsuki’s activities, but it was a beautiful day, and obviously it wasn’t secure to read the report just anywhere, so obviously it made sense to glance at it under the complex seals surrounding the cabin. The sun was on his face, his tree was nice and comfortable, and perhaps the air was a little cool but he had a perfect view of the Hatake household.

Kakashi was washing dishes from breakfast as Kouichi wiped down the table, when the proximity alarm chimed. Obito stilled, reaching out with all of his senses. Kakashi had tensed, but wasn’t moving with the type of alarm that Obito knew the paranoid bastard was capable of exhibiting. 

“My eternal rival!”

Obito slumped back against the trunk of his tree. Of course it was Maito. No one else was that unsubtle. 

Kouichi ran out of the house, flinging himself at his surrogate uncle, who caught him and swung him around with a laugh. Kakashi emerged from the house, his eye turned up in a surprisingly fetching smile. Which was a very odd thought, considering all that was exposed was a single eye.

_ Why hadn’t he ever smiled like that while they’d been on Team Seven? _

Obito grimaced at the annoying thought before summarily deciding to ignore it entirely. 

“Were you able to get the new book, Uncle Gai?”

“Yosh!” Maito pulled a package out of an unknown pocket and gave it to the boy, who cheered. “I also found a new package of markers as well!”

Kouichi gasped with excitement, bouncing on his toes. “Thank you thank you _ thank you! _” He held the package against this chest as he vibrated in place, clearly thrilled at the present. 

Obito remembered seeing him just as excited over the arrowhead, remembered a package of paper and gel pens bought with the best of intentions and now languishing in a dark corner of Kamui along with a number of other gifts and knickknacks, and frowned at himself. He had already made a decision on that front, and he _ would not _ change his mind just because he was… _ feeling _things.

No matter how much he might want to see such joy spring up in those little dark eyes from _ his own _actions.

The thought threatened to yank down his mood, so he forced his mind and gaze back out to the house.

“And Kakashi, I have a gift for you as well!” Maito exclaimed, pulling out a sealing scroll. His chakra pulsed into the seal, causing the paper to glow as he pulled out his gift with a flourish.

Obito blinked.

Was that a bonsai? And not just any bonsai, but a half-dead, shredded looking one?

Obito knew that _ he _ could fix it, with the possibly, very small problem that it wouldn’t be bonsai-sized anymore -- there may or may not now be a very large tree where previously there was a flower shop in a small Tea country city, not that Obito had any knowledge of that -- but Kakashi? Sure, Kakashi had his dogs, which were a chore and a half all on their own without even taking into account their personalities, but the patience to tend to a dying plant? Especially one as finicky as a bonsai?

Kakashi was holding the plant delicately, like it was something precious, and glanced at the label before shooting Maito a look. “You don’t need to keep buying me plants.”

“But I wish to encourage such a cool and youthful hobby!” Maito cried.

Hobby? Kakashi did this… plant thing regularly?

Kakashi relaxed in a way that implied that he was smiling but didn’t want to let people know by crinkling his eye. “Adenium. I don’t have this cultivar. Thank you.”

Maito grinned and gave an obnoxious thumbs up. Obito shook his head ruefully, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. He was never going to understand that friendship.

For a little while, the three of them stood around and chatted -- well, Maito and Kakashi chatted, Kouichi was already reading his new book -- and Obito alternated between glancing at them and reading his own reports.

He could almost pretend that Kouichi knew he was there, but going down that path would lead to madness. _ Well… to even _ more _ madness, _ Obito thought with a rare type of self-aware wryness.

Finally, Maito and Kouichi peeled off, the loud green-clad man exclaiming about ‘seeing Kouichi’s youthful brilliance in full bloom!’ However, Kakashi did not go with them. 

That was enough for Obito to pause, flicking a glance between Kouichi’s retreating back and Kakashi, still standing on the porch. Obito found himself slowly settling back down in his tree, his son’s and Maito’s voices fading into the distance.

Kakashi stepped up on the porch, setting the bonsai on the railing next to the other plants. For the first time, now that he was paying attention, Obito realized that the other potted plants were also bonsai. Most of them were a bit rough looking, but the shapes were slowly emerging, wire encouraging healthy, final shapes. Obito’s past observations had been so focused on Kouichi, that he’d never registered the tiny trees as anything other than a blur of green in the periphery. It never occurred to him that they were _ Kakashi’s _ plants.

When did that happen? He had always assumed they were something simple to grow, left by Tsunade or Shizune or Sarutobi or someone else who assumed, incorrectly, that Kakashi could keep a plant alive. 

The man in question had pulled out a small tool kit, including a shining pair of shears, and was methodically moving down the row. He inspected one of the limbs on a tiny olive tree, single eye narrowed. He picked up a ruler and measured it, then he picked up the tiny shears and clipped the limb before repeating the whole process with another limb. He trimmed and plucked leaves, Obito looking on in mild fascination, until he was apparently satisfied.

“There you go, Bonehead,” Kakashi stated as he finished, giving the plant a light pat on the top limb. 

...Clearly Kakashi relied on social cues from his dogs _ far _ too heavily, because, just… what? _ Bonehead _ was the plant’s name? What kind of name was that for a plant? It should be something more sophisticated, especially since it was a bonsai. Something like… Wani! Or maybe Benzaiten? Something with _ dignity _ at the very least.

While Obito had been lost in thought, the younger man had moved on to the bonsai Maito had brought. Obito couldn’t even tell what species it was. Kakashi had said the name was… what was it again? Adenium? 

Kakashi had examined it and had just begun trimming when Gai and Kouichi returned to the porch, dusty and sweaty from their quick but intense spar. The boy ran right up and leaned against Kakashi’s legs, staring at the tree. 

“It looks kind of dead. Can you save it, Mama?” 

“Maybe,” the man replied lightly, resting his chin on his hand. “It could use a name though. What do you think?”

Kouichi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the bonsai, intent as a wolf with a prey scent. The corner of Obito’s mouth twitched upward -- it was cute to see Kouichi like this. 

“Mr. Fluffy,” the boy announced.

...What? 

“Why?” Kakashi asked simply, which did not cover all of the questions Obito had, dammit! 

Kouichi grinned impishly and gestured at the plant. “You gotta look underneath the underneath!” 

Kakashi smiled and ruffled Kouichi’s hair proudly. 

“Mr. Fluffy it is.” 

Obito resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. Were all Hatake this fucking aggravating, or was he just lucky? 

~

Later, in a library in the Fire County capital, he opened up a botany book, found the page on Adenium trees, and began to read.

~

Changes in routine were always a hint that something was amiss. Sometimes they indicated a move being made by an opponent, other times a potential weakness that could be exploited. 

Obito wasn’t sure how to qualify the one he was seeing yet, but he still kept his hand near his kunai, ready for any critical action. 

Kouichi was in bed, which was normal for this time of night. Surrounded by the entirety of Kakashi’s nin-dog pack. Less typical, but it still happened -- Kouichi adored the entire nin-pack, and many times fell asleep cuddling them. 

Two of them keeping watch was… concerning and was what had put Obito’s nerves on edge initially. 

What was the most odd was the sight of Kakashi in the kitchen. 

Usually, after Kouichi went to bed, Kakashi wasn’t long after. If he stayed awake, it was to do paperwork, or occasionally prepare food if he knew he was leaving for a mission. Admittedly, when Obito had seen that the first time, he’d had to duck back into Kamui to give himself time to process it, because the level of both foresight and domesticity in Kakashi had just been so weird to see. 

But Kakashi wasn’t doing any of that. He was sitting unnaturally still at the table, a full bottle of sake in front of him, mask pulled up, and staring at a framed picture that Obito couldn’t make out. All he knew was that it wasn’t one from Kakashi’s room or the mantle. 

Obito tucked himself against the house, peeking over the windowsill, and activated the very subtle little jutsu that would let him hear if Kakashi was speaking. 

To his surprise, he was. 

“--he’s already finished the entire series, so Jiraiya is bringing more books from the same author next time he comes through on his way back to Konoha. Not sure if it’s a good idea, Kouichi’s been asking if we can build nightingale floors in the house, and he likes to pretend to be Nanashi the Red Haired Demon during stealth training games. I guess that’s normal though, which I think is good?” 

Obito frowned. No one was in the house, so… who was Kakashi talking to? 

The younger man sighed, and dropped his head into one hand, not looking up from the picture in front of him. “Kouichi denies it, but I think he’s lonely. I don’t know how to fix that, Sensei. We can’t go back until it’s safe.” 

...Oh. Obito looked harder at the picture, squinting to bring it more into focus. He didn’t have the best angle, but abruptly, he realized what it was. 

It was a photo of Team Seven. Their Team Seven. Before Kanabi bridge, and Rin…

Guilt and anger roiled viciously in Obito’s gut, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. It had been years since he had heard one of Kakashi’s self-flagellating, memorial-stone conversations. They had always been informative, an excellent way to pay attention to the going-ons of Konoha given Kakashi’s security clearance since the younger man had never seen the need to guard his tongue to the dead.

Obito conveniently ignored the fact that Kakashi had been out of Konoha for years as he settled himself a bit more comfortably to listen.

“So far he’s got an aptitude for… well, most of the things I’ve thrown at him. Except genjutsu, so far he hasn’t had much of a talent for that,” Kakashi continued, a complex mix of pride and grief in his voice. “I’ve tried to start him on a few healing jutsus, too, but since I’m pretty bad at them he hasn’t gotten very far, so we’re sticking to field medicine. You might’ve had fun teaching him, Rin.”

Once, Obito would have grit his teeth at how Kakashi spoke to Rin’s ghost. Now though… he couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. Kakashi had earned some leeway in that regard.

Well, a little. For Kouichi.

Kakashi sighed again, his shoulders slumping. “There’s so much that Kouichi has missed out on because of that bastard. Sarutobi-sama is working on it, but it feels like every time we cut the head off one of Danzo’s plans, another two come slithering out of the dark. I caught a couple of his agents getting into place in Iwa, with orders to assassinate the daimyo in a few years and implicate Konoha.”

Hmm. Obito would have to check over his sources again. He hadn’t heard that mission get assigned, and it would be very… annoying, if ROOT eliminated one of his pawns before an appropriate time.

“But it means we still can’t go home,” Kakashi murmured blearily, pain coloring his tone as he rested both arms on the table. “Kouichi isn’t getting a chance to talk to other people and develop, no matter what else I’m doing. Hell, he’s never been in a restaurant or a marketplace or even a park.” Obito watched as Kakashi’s eye softened in a rueful smile. 

“I’m sorry, Obito. I’m trying.” 

Obito tried to scoff to himself at Kakashi’s sentimentality, firmly ignoring the squirming worms in his stomach. It was more likely to be indigestion than guilt anyways. 

“You would’ve loved to take him to the New Year festival I bet. The food stands, and those stupid games that we all knew were rigged so you had to cheat to win them, and the fireworks.” Kakashi’s head sunk slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you. The smoke hurt my nose and the noise hurt my ears, and I didn’t like going to events like that when I was off-duty and didn’t have to be there. But I promise I’ll try to take Kouichi when we can go back.”

Obito sat, his mind spinning even as Kakashi continued to talk. What was he talking about? There had been multiple times Kakashi had snubbed spending time with himself and Rin, which festival was he referring to? 

“I bet he’d hate those spicy, fried chips they always sell. He seems to have developed quite a heat aversion.” Kakashi huffed a tired laugh. “I’m sure Kushina-nee-san would have been devastated at the thought, she was _ crazy _ about those chips. I remember her joking that she wished one of us would eventually toughen up so she could finally share her spicy ramen special with someone who’d appreciate the honor. Remember when you tried it, Sensei? I thought you might asphyxiate--”

Obito let Kakashi’s rhythmic cadence lull him as his mind tried to make sense of what he’d heard. Like a dog with a bone: stubborn, tenacious, unable to let anything go.

It wasn’t until almost half an hour later, after Kakashi had lapsed into silence and began to drink heavily, when Obito finally remembered. 

It had been the first year Team Seven had been together under Mina-- _ the Yondaime_. They had gotten back from an out-of-village B-rank mission, where they’d accompanied a caravan transporting tea all the way to River Country, and they’d arrived back to Konoha only two days before the New Year. 

Obito had loved the New Year festival. The memories felt faded, like pages from an old book. He hadn’t thought about it in years, about the music and dancing, games and food and _ fireworks_. It had been one of his favorite days of the year to just go and celebrate being alive and being human. It was the only time of year when it was easy to forget the silence of his home, the disapproving eyes of his relatives, and to spend time with people he actually liked and who actually liked him. 

Mi-- the Yondaime had made plans with the jinchuuriki, his crush so painfully obvious it had been awkward to witness, but Rin had tried to make plans for all three of them to go. Obito had been thrilled that she had thought of him even if he was annoyed that Kakashi was going to be involved, up until Kakashi had shot it down.

_ “Why would I want to go? It’s loud and irritating.” _

Obito had yelled at him -- because, dammit, he was their teammate, why was he always so rude and acting like everything was beneath him?! -- and Kakashi had snapped back. In the end he had stormed off and disappeared somewhere other than his apartment. Obito and Rin had eventually gone to the festival by themselves, and they’d had a good time, but Rin had wished that Kakashi could have been there to make a wish with the two of them.

Obito had been torn. Kakashi was annoying, and he probably would have been rude all evening, but… he was part of Team Seven. It had felt off, to be doing a supposed team bonding activity without him.

The next day, Obito had ended up scrapping with Kakashi out of flustered irritation tainted with grudging concern, and losing. Again. 

Obito had known, theoretically, that the Hatake had heightened senses. Not on the scale exhibited by the Inuzuka, but they were still considered some of the best trackers produced by Konoha. Obtio had once seen Kakashi, only nine years old, doggedly trace the path of a Kumo-nin spy through a rainstorm so fierce the rain was blowing _ sideways. _ At the time, Obito had thought it was an astounding show of skill and had, quite frankly, been in a state of awe towards the younger boy until it was inevitably ruined when he opened his mouth.

Even with that practical demonstration of Kakashi’s enhanced senses, Obito had never made the obvious connection between fieldwork and daily life. A person couldn’t simply turn off their sense of smell when it proved inconvenient, could they? Or dial down the sensitivity of their hearing.

So… Kakashi literally didn’t like fireworks? That was why he’d refused to go to the festival with them? With _ Rin? _

It had all been a misunderstanding? 

Obito shook his head slowly, denial his habitual reaction even as he turned over the possibility in his mind. Against his will, he began to consider if this wasn’t the only time they had misunderstood each other. The possibilities grew and split as his mind entertained this alternate version of events, from a different perspective than what he had always seen. 

Kakashi was, once again, proving to be the existential headache of all existential headaches.

_ He’d probably be smug about it if he knew, too, the fucking bastard. _

The thought was strangely lacking in venom, but Obito refused to investigate as to why. He already had enough on his plate.

~ 

Obito stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him quietly, somewhat pleased with himself. The suggestions had been planted, making the new Snow Daimyo primed for action whenever Obito wished it. Which meant he now had access to the entirety of Snow Country’s resources. As paltry as they were, they’d still be enormously useful. 

Lady Sayaka had finally succumbed to her illness, one that, ironically, was not instigated by Obito or any of his allies. She had been sickly for decades and it was only her stubbornness and iron-clad will that let her live as long as she had. The loss of such a strong leader… was surprisingly sad. Obito frowned at himself in consternation. He’d been actively working towards her death for years, rebuffed at almost every turn by the fearless woman and her political supporters. Knowing that she was now dead, having just come from planting a genjutsu in her foolish and gullible son’s head, made him feel strangely hollow. 

She hadn’t been anything close to a friend, but she had been one of his greatest opponents and Obito had often felt like he was playing a game of shogi or pai sho whenever they crossed paths. For all that she never knew he existed, Obito was coming to the slightly disturbing realization that he’d… miss her.

Her son could not even begin to compare and, while that was useful, it also left a bitter taste in Obito's mouth. It was a waste of her legacy.

Obito’s chest throbbed angrily and he eagerly turned his mind to happier thoughts.

It had been a very productive day and, based on his reports from Pein, Akatsuki was steadily sinking its claws in all over the elemental nations. 

Today was a good day.

Obito was just making his way out of the palace when a familiar spike of chakra brushed against his senses like a finely sharpened blade dragging lightly across his skin. He could be blind, deaf, and dumb, and still know that chakra.

Hound was on the loose.

Obito paused, stepping further into the shadows as he shoved every flicker and spark of his chakra under his skin. He could not afford to be noticed. 

Instead he flash-stepped into and out of Kamui to get a better vantage point from a nearby temple roof, sending a small chakra pulse out. Two moths fluttered back and landed on his hand. 

“Status?”

“Hound is in pursuit of three ROOT agents and four independent agents,” Hon sighed out quietly.

“Anyone recognizable?” Obito asked softly.

“Two independent agents are listed in the bingo book as formerly belonging to Iwa,” the other moth whispered, fluttering its wings in laconic excitement. Kogoe was young, but would settle soon enough, Obito was sure. The Moths were some of the calmest, most self-assured summons and Obito had coveted them for that alone. 

“Based on what we overheard, they may belong to a resistance cell,” Kogoe finished quietly.

Ah. Danzo must have been attempting to recruit them and Kakashi was putting a stop to it. 

Obito began to step away, ready to retreat through Kamui, before he paused. It had been a very, very long time since he had seen Kakashi in action. It would be prudent to check and ensure that Kakashi was indeed still a force to be reckoned with. 

Cloaking himself, he made his way from rooftop to rooftop until he sensed that blade-sharp chakra just below him. He had arrived just in time to see the fight begin to unfold.

The missing-nin and ROOT agents had apparently realized that they could not outrun the Hound, and were attempting to take him on. Obito couldn’t see the expression behind the mask, even Kakashi’s distinctive hair was covered by a hood, but he could see the ease with which Hound threw up a mud wall that blocked two opponents before electrocuting another that was lunging at him with a katana. One of the ROOT agents hurled senbon as another filled the air with mist, trying to obscure his view. Their movements were so fast that Obito struggled to see the whole picture through the single eyehole in his mask. Without thought, he ripped it off his face, eagerly drinking in the fight below.

Kakashi leapt in the air, the senbon missing him as he hurled his kunai with deadly precision. The ROOT agents dodged, only to move right into the path of the ice spears Kakashi pulled out of the ground, sharp and vicious like a wolf’s teeth.

Obito realized he was grinning. Most jounin fought with a precision and elegance that drew the eye. Kakashi was a part of the elite echelon that took it to the next level of grace, lethal poetry moving between the shadows as he eliminated his prey. 

Effortless death and flawless skill combined into one lanky, stubborn package.

One of the remaining missing-nin pulled an enormous war axe out of a sealing scroll on her belt, whirling it about as though it was weightless, causing Kakashi to spring back, light as a feather, in order to avoid the gleaming edge. The remaining ROOT agent joined in, lobbying shards of flaming rock at the masked ninja.

Obito rolled his eyes at the excessively flashy technique. To be fair, with how quickly Kakashi and the old man were taking out Danzo’s ranks, the less experienced agents were probably getting sent into the field.

Metal flashed and Kakashi’s kunai flew like birds, one burying itself in the eye of the axe-wielding missing-nin, another slamming into a hand just forming a jutsu. The ROOT agent was disciplined enough to avoid yelling in pain, but still hesitated a moment from the shock, enough for Kakashi to lunge at him and grab his neck. The snap was audible from Obito’s perch, and the last enemy fell. 

Obito blinked into the sudden, shocking quiet. Apparently that had been more intense than he had expected. His heart was beating hard in his chest, and breathing took a little more effort than usual. And he must have been sunburned as well, because his cheeks felt warm. 

Served him right for taking off his mask so carelessly.

Though, truly, watching Hatake Kakashi in action was an experience that Obito never grew tired of, even if the younger jounin was a frustrating little bastard. It wasn’t all that surprising, though. Uchihas had long acknowledged their admiration for deadly things, after all.

~

If Obito never saw another fishery, it would be too soon. Yes, taking a controlling interest in the Kogane no Ningyo Fishery lent him more political weight in the Water Country capital, but discreetly removing the guards in order to intimidate and pressure the owner into compliance had been annoying, and one spectacularly lucky bastard had managed to drench Obito in fish guts. 

He had died, of course, and the mission had been successful. However, three showers later and he was pretty sure he still smelled like fish, and his jacket had been beyond salvaging. It annoyed him, aggravating his inner desire to be thrifty and efficient whenever possible. Being wasteful was lazy and messy. On an unrelated note, it may have also been his favorite jacket, the one with the slightly chewed left sleeve -- a habit from his childhood he’d never been able to break -- and the extra buttons at the top that helped shield him from the harsh, winter winds. The guard responsible for its ruin might have had the most… unfortunate death out of the lot, a fate Obito thought was entirely deserved. Acceptable coats were difficult to find.

When he stepped out of Kamui into the Hatakes’ back yard, the sun had just gone down over the clearing and he was still lamenting the loss of his most reliable piece of clothing. Despite his sour mood, tension began to slip off his shoulders as he crept over towards the house. 

Kouichi was just finishing brushing his teeth as Kakashi jotted something down on a notepad. The boy spat, rinsed, and then took off running to take a flying leap into bed. 

Obito tried to hide his grin in the collar of his coat before realizing -- oh, wrong coat. Obito refused to let his irritation distract him from a domestic moment with his son… no matter how one-sided the moment might be. 

Kakashi sat comfortably on top of the covers, giving Kouichi an easy hug over the shoulders. “Alright, pup, teeth brushed?” 

“Yup!” 

“Pajamas on?” 

“Yup!” 

“You used the bathroom?” 

“Uh-huh!” 

Kakashi eye-smiled. “Alright, how about a chapter of The Curse of the Uzumaki Seal?” 

Kouichi tilted his head. “You know, Mama, I think I got it.” 

Kakashi stilled for a moment. Obito watched him as he made himself move, the younger man’s expression appearing placid and calm to anyone who didn’t know him well… or hadn’t spent the last decade watching his every move for surveillance purposes. 

“Alright then.” He started to stand up, but Kouichi grabbed his sleeve. 

“Go get your book, Mama, then we can read our books together and get cuddles!” 

Kakashi’s expression shifted to something closer to genuine. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be right back.” He dropped a kiss on top of Kouichi’s head, which made the boy beam before he opened his book, and Kakashi slipped out the door.

Obito hesitated. Normally he would just stay and watch Kouichi, but… Kakashi seemed sad at the idea that Kouichi wanted to read independently. He moved around to peer into Kakashi’s room. 

Unlike the crowded but well-organized chaos of Kouichi’s room, full of bits and bobs and all the things children needed, Kakashi’s room was almost spartan. The bed was neatly made and covered by a simple quilt of blue and gray. His desk was organized between various write-ups and intelligence reports. Plants occupied the windowsill, including a bonsai Obito hadn’t noticed before. That was actually still quite embarrassing, that he hadn’t noticed Kakashi picking up a habit that didn’t involve moping. The brightest bit of color in the room was the top of the bookshelf, which contained Kakashi’s Icha-Icha collection. 

As Kakashi picked up his own book from the nightstand, his fingers paused to pass over the photo there. Obito peered to look at it more closely. The house was, of course, full of photos of Kouichi at various ages, but this photo had probably been taken when Kouichi was just a few months old, silver hair a fluffy dandelion puff as he grinned a toothless smile of pure delight at the camera.

He shifted his gaze to Kakashi. Kouichi was not old by any means, yet the set of Kakashi’s shoulders was… not sad, but something close to it. 

Obito shifted uncomfortably. He had the annoying urge to… comfort Kakashi? He scowled at the thought. That couldn’t be right. 

And yet it bothered him that Kakashi seemed so down. Kakashi should always be cocky and assured, even smug, when he wasn’t busy brooding over his past. Even one of his rare bouts of temper would be preferable to this kind of fugue. 

“Mama! Are you coming?” 

Kakashi seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “I’m coming, Kocchan, keep your hair on!” 

“I always have my hair, Mama!” 

“Are you sure?” 

The boy giggled as Obito sat back, still unsure of what to make of the scene. It was normal, utterly normal, for children to grow up, and yet… he had to sympathize with Kakashi, that those changes were difficult to experience. Granted, Obito hadn’t witnessed the majority of those changes, but the terrible aching sorrow he felt whenever he dwelled on how much he’d missed was enough of a hint as to what Kakashi was probably experiencing.

Obito paused, eyes narrowed dubiously as he reassessed that train of thought. No, apparently it had been sincere -- in this one way at least, he could empathize with Kakashi. Something he had never really been able to do with the taciturn bastard. 

It wasn’t a particularly comfortable realization. 

And as he struggled to come to terms with it, the two Hatakes both settled in, their noses in their books and oblivious to the emotional turmoil centered around them. 

~

Obito abruptly woke up, launching backwards with his hands raised, his breath coming fast and his hearing sharpened, alert for any sound.

...Which there wasn’t. Any sounds, that was, other than his own breathing. Because he was in his war room, where he had been working, and… judging from the state of his desk, he had fallen asleep on his reports.

It had just been a… bad dream. Not a nightmare, he wasn’t that weak and foolish anymore. Simply a bad dream.

Obito sighed and let his guard down, allowing a moment of weakness as he dropped his head into his hands. The dream hadn’t even been a bad one, per say, merely… painful and bittersweet. It had been of the time before Kanabi Bridge, when he had been far more foolish but life had also been far happier.

Absently, he walked over to the small bathroom he’d had installed off the side of the war room, something he’d done after one too many strategy binges were interrupted by inconvenient bodily needs. He slumped over the sink and splashed some water on his face, the cold leaching away some of the nerves and exhaustion left over from his sudden awakening, before looking up at the battered, cheap mirror hung crookedly on the wall. 

Usually, the right side of his face was the first thing that drew his eye. It wasn’t surprising, given the strange manner of his scars, twisted and stretched by the rapid cellular growth when Madara had regrown a body shattered beyond repair. It was a sign of his resolve, of what could be achieved when the fate of the world was at stake.

_ Was it, though? No, that didn’t bear thinking about. _

And yet today, Obito’s gaze was instead drawn to his own left temple, to a thin scar that had always been his, just his. 

He had earned that scar when he was a chunin, on the first A-rank mission he had ever run with Team Seven. Many people would probably find it such an odd thing to remember, but forgetfulness wasn’t in Obito’s nature. It was one of the few skills he had that he could attribute to his Uchiha bloodline. Which meant that more often than not dates had more significance, more importance, because he knew _ exactly _what day events in the past occured. 

Unwilling anniversaries, counted up in his head. 

On this day, twelve years ago, Team Seven had officially completed their first A-rank mission. They had been ordered to infiltrate a town along the northern Suna border, identify a weapons factory, and destroy it using any and all possible means. From start to finish, it had been a complete and utter clusterfuck. 

Anything that could go wrong, did. Their intel was incorrect because their agent in place had gone native, the biggest sandstorm of the century hit the region midway through their reconnaissance, and their pack of rations got eaten by an over-enthusiastic camel. 

Suffice it to say, by the time they left the factory a raging inferno at their backs, fleeing hostile and slightly singed Suna-nin, they were all dirty, tired, and starving.

To make the day even more fantastic, Obito had managed to sprain both of his ankles due to a bad landing during the final escape. Rin and Kakashi had both thrown an arm around him, which hadn’t been a surprise from Rin, but Kakashi had also moved without hesitation, running with him in an awkward, four-legged gait for hours while Mi… the Yon… _ Sensei _ had covered their trail. Kakashi’s nin-dogs, only five of them at that time, had run guard around them, keeping a nose out for any incoming enemies -- and they had succeeded. They had managed to cross into Fire Country, all of them exhausted and filthy but utterly exhilarated at their victory. 

It had been almost midnight by the time they’d felt safe enough to set up camp, Kakashi starting the fire as Rin had braced Obito’s ankles as best she could with the materials they had on hand. It did not go smoothly, having not yet begun her training as a medic-nin, and all of them were treated to Rin’s surprisingly large vocabulary of cuss words. When it was done, all three of them and the dogs had stared at her with wide, shocked eyes and she’d flushed a red so bright Obito was shocked she didn’t faint from the sudden rush of blood. Two of Kakashi’s dogs, Bull and Guruko, had cuddled up on either side of him, the first time Obito had really seen them outside of mission work, and they had proceeded to try and distract him from his pain. Kakashi had scolded them whenever they jostled him roughly enough to cause a wince.

Sensei had been preoccupied with cooking a couple of rangy-looking squirrels, but he’d been so tired that he nearly passed out mid-roast and only Rin’s fast reflexes saved him from face-planting straight into the fire. His wide eyes and smoking eyebrows had sent them all into hysterical laughter. 

It had been… it had been _ magnificent. _ Sitting injured and exhausted around a campfire in the middle of nowhere, it had been the first time Obito had ever thought that they could actually be a _ team, _ and maybe, _ maybe, _ if he was very lucky, they could be something just a little bit more. He had been alone for so long, and the smiles and laughter they had shared around their campsite had filled him with a kind of warmth and hope that he’d thought died alongside his parents.

And all of it had crumpled into abject, devastated ruin in just a few years.

Obito tried to catch his breath. The anger was choking him, flashes of red across his vision, but he couldn’t figure out why. Hell, this was one of the few memories he had involving Kakashi that wasn’t inherently aggravating. One of the only ones where Sensei’s brow wasn’t furrowed with the constant stress and concern war created and Rin wasn’t trying to act like she was ten years older than she was, desperate to be of more use, trying constantly to lift the many burdens they each carried from all their shoulders.

Obito stared blankly at the mirror in front of him, barely registering the tears that fell from his natural eye. That warm feeling, the beautiful _ potentiality, _ had been so dear to him for so long. The sheer possibilities that their futures had once held, even surrounded by war and death and betrayal. It had crashed down so quickly, in what felt like a single heartbeat, in the single moment it took for a silver-haired prodigy to turn his back and put the village before anything else. All it took was a single, lighting fast punch through a fragile, beloved ribcage.

Despite everything, Obito had never once regretted saving Kakashi’s life, but he did frequently regret that he hadn’t been there afterwards. That he couldn’t have kept them all together through those last months of darkness. If he had been there, maybe Rin wouldn’t have been kidnapped and the Sanbi wouldn’t have been implanted. If he’d been there, maybe he could have talked Kakashi around, could have convinced him to spare Rin’s life, that they’d find a way to save _ everyone. _ He’d been able to do it before, convince Kakashi to put the mission second for once and his friends first.

Kakashi chose what he thought was the lesser evil, but Obito could have shown him that _ lesser _ didn’t make it _ better. _ Rin was worth more than that.

Usually, this was the point where the anger came and swallowed him whole, made him incapable of thinking beyond the _ how dare he _ that consumed his very soul. Now… now, he just felt tired and resigned because the truth was staring him straight in the face through his own broken expression, and Obito felt like, for the first time, he could think the words without his chest caving in and killing him slowly.

Truthfully, _ honestly, _ Kakashi wasn’t any more to blame for that golden, _ ruined _ future than Obito was, not really. They were each responsible for the death of a beloved teammate. They each had equal blame for their own bloody ruination. 

For the first time in a long while, the mere thought of Kakashi didn’t cause Obito’s rage to surge up to the surface, didn’t choke him and force him to look away from the man the younger shinobi had become. They’d both ruined whatever shining, glorious future that could’ve been possible for Team Seven through their own hate and anger and fear, but… but that didn’t mean that another future couldn’t be possible either. Just because it wouldn’t be the one Obito had held on to tightly throughout the war, through his agonizing recovery under Madara’s watchful eyes, didn’t mean that it was worthless.

Raising Kouichi wasn’t worthless and neither was protecting him from forces that would throw him into war and blood and death before he was ready.

It wasn’t the future Obito had wanted as a child, but did that make this one any less valuable? Any less worth living? The question made his head hurt, images of the perfect future the Plan promised flashing through his head and, for the first time in Sage knew how long, Obito just wanted it to stop.

Just this once, for a single moment, Obito wanted to be a little weak. He wanted to do something because he desired to do it and not because the Plan or his old insecurities required it.

He usually spent this day raging and cursing the Fates over Rin’s cold, solitary grave. He usually allowed his anger to drive him, to consume him as he thought about how they’d lost everything they could have ever been and how he’d remake that _ potentiality _even if he had to raze the whole fucking world down to achieve it, but today… 

Today, he wanted to go to the Hatake clearing. He wanted to watch his son play in the sunlight and wrestle with his family’s nin-dogs. He wanted to watch Kakashi trim his stupidly named trees and make silly puns just to see their little boy laugh. Obito wanted to watch them cook dinner together and feel like he was a part of something good and kind and beautiful when for so long he’d thought those kinds of things were lost to the pages of history.

He didn’t think Rin would mind.

In fact, he thought… maybe she would approve. 

~

Obito would never admit it to anyone, but it was occasionally nice to go into a market and pick up fresh produce while wearing a bland, anonymous face. It made him think of softer times, rose-colored memories of his parents buying food on Market Day and allowing him to poke and prod at the stalls that grabbed his interest as they laughed. It was a kind of domesticity that Obito had longed for the majority of his life and yet never managed to achieve. It’d been years since he’d seriously considered it a possibility, and shopping was now mostly a chore that distracted him from the important things in his life: the Plan -- something he was still shying away from, unable to come to terms with what to do to save his son -- and watching Kouichi grow up. He mused on that as he paid for his persimmons and lychees. Kouichi was reaching the age where he could enter the academy, if he had lived in Konoha. 

Almost the same age Obito had been when he had realized he could really be a ninja, that he could make a difference in the world. 

The thought made him pause as he walked out of the market, heavy shopping bag held lightly in his strong hand. He flexed the fingers of his other hand, the one that liked to act up with random spasms, as he thought.

His current goals were actually closer to those of his much younger, more naive self than he’d realized. 

It was strange to think about. 

Obito shook off the thought and kept walking. It was a weekend, and crowds of people were out shopping and enjoying the beautiful weather. The sounds of haggling and delighted laughter dogged his steps and Obito couldn’t help but smile at the lively atmosphere. And if it was a little bittersweet, no one else would be able to tell.

He wondered what Kouichi would think about this place. He could imagine it, so vivid in his mind’s eye. Kouichi might be shy initially, wide-eyed as he observed the crowds and the sheer number of people, but it wouldn't be long until he was running from stall to stall, investigating the art supplies and the fabric swatches, racing back to show Kakashi what he’d found with bright smiles. 

Kakashi would ask all the right questions, encouraging Kouichi’s interest, and maybe spending a few moments at the gardening stall looking for new tools for his bonsai trees. Kouichi would start playing with the children in the park, and he and Kakashi would stand back, watching, and they would exchange a smile whenever Kouichi’s delighted laughter reached them. Kakashi could even lean on his shoulder if he wanted to, Sage knows the man always looked exhausted-- 

Obito’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as he ran headlong into a light pole, the pain of his now throbbing head inconsequential to the realization of what he had just been thinking. 

What the fuck? 

Quickly, he stepped back into a short alley, only using the bare minimum of caution before rushing into Kamui. The dark and quiet, usually so comforting, now only allowed his thoughts to reverberate, as loud as temple gongs. 

What. The. Fuck?! 

Obito couldn’t speak. His breath came in bursts. He hadn’t fantasized about a life like that, a world where things turned out right and kind and good except with, with… 

Rin. 

But he hadn’t been thinking about Rin. He had been thinking about Kouichi and Kakashi, about sharing a life with him and their child.

No, no no no, he had not had those thoughts, he had not imagined that! He _ refused _ to accept it!

He realized he had collapsed to the ground, his fingers buried painfully in his hair, his groceries strewn out around him. The gravel from previously destroyed pillars dug into his knees, but he could not force himself to move beyond the enormity of this epiphany. He was imagining a life with Kakashi, by Kakashi’s side, and raising their son together. 

But… but _ why? _

It was then, with all the grace and poise of a suddenly beached whale, that Obito realized that he _ liked _Kakashi. 

As in _ like _liked. 

Fuck.

~

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (very, very) belated Valentine's day!
> 
> Sorry about the… cliffhanger? Does that count as a cliffhanger? We’ll call it a cliffhanger. But we have some good news! The next installment is very close to being done. We'll be focusing more on Unbreakable for the next while, but hopefully we can edit and post the next installment for this series within the next two or so months. We think you’ll enjoy that one ;) 
> 
> A comment on the "like-like": Obito is pretty emotionally stunted in a lot of ways, and also weirdly self aware in others. So the way we’re seeing him progress is that his feelings are changing towards Kakashi and some of those feelings are romantic in nature, but he’s in denial about it. At the same time, he’s also aware enough to know the difference between friendship and a crush. We hope it's a believable progression.
> 
> Also, for those of you paying enough attention to our biology/genetics headcanons to realize a discrepancy in this chapter, let it be known that it was on purpose! All will be explained in future stories XD
> 
> Also, we know in canon that Obito killed the majority of the Uchiha clan while Itachi only really killed their parents, but… we didn’t like that. SO, this is our headcanon about what happened: Itachi did all of it. Obito knew about it, but didn’t stop it because he didn’t care. Itachi was able to do it because of the element of surprise, skill, and subterfuge (also, we kind of have issues with his age and the timeline Kishimoto gives us to work with, since it’s implied that he was traumatized in the Third Shinobi war and… yeah, we won’t get into it but we have THOUGHTS). Also, we thought that using Obito as the scapegoat for the massacre kind of undermined the thematic/narrative point of it.
> 
> The “Nanashi the Red Haired Demon” thing is a reference to one of the best animated films ever, called “Sword of the Stranger.” Nanashi is what the main character calls himself, which translates into “No Name” because he was always named by his masters before for his foreign red hair. Now, he travels as a wandering swordsman and dyes his hair, but he’s still haunted by his past. Highly recommend it XD (the sword fighting scenes are BADASS).
> 
> Kogane no Ningyo (黄金の人魚) is Japanese for “Golden Mermaid.”
> 
> Wani (鰐) is a Japanese sea monster that is translated as either a shark or a crocodile. 
> 
> Benzaiten (弁才天) is the Japanese name for the Hindu goddess Saraswati (goddess of everything that flows), who slayed a three-headed serpent and is credited for the creation of Enoshima island.
> 
> As you can see, Obito has a flare for the dramatic when it comes to naming things, even plants XD
> 
> Kogoe (小声) means low-voiced or whisper.
> 
> We hope you’re all staying safe! Don’t forget to wash your hands!

**Author's Note:**

> This author’s note is going to be long, guys, you don’t have to read if you don’t want to.
> 
> WARNING: graphic depiction of violence towards children and elderly civilians, and non-graphic depiction of a rape and murder. Obito causes a raid to happen to destabilize trade routes. A little boy that reminds him of Kouichi makes him step in and kill the attackers but the damage has been done and Obito realizes the horrors that he's just unleashed. He realizes that it's his fault.
> 
> For anyone who asks why we placed that scene -- war is horrifying. People do unimaginable things, and there are direct sources for many of the actions taking place in this scene where it happened to actual people in real life. We both took material from All Quiet on the Western Front (WWI movie/book), as well as Testament of Youth (the memoir of Vera Brittain, a WWI nurse), and A Long Way Gone (autobiography of Ishmael Beah, a former child soldier). War is painful, sometimes unfortunately necessary, and the people who live through it do not escape without scars. Even though we love Obito, we can’t pretend that he didn’t both commit horrible actions directly and create situations where horrible things happened. So excuse the soapbox, but it was important for us to acknowledge this piece of his story. 
> 
> Also, we say this with all of the love and affection in our hearts: fuck Kishimoto’s inability to maintain a consistent timeline, good lord it was a pain to figure out where certain pieces go! Shy deserves all the love and virtual candy for the gorgeous timeline she was able to construct from the bits and scraps we have. Because of this timeline mess -- we’re changing things up a bit. We ignore the Kaguya storyline in all of our fics so: Black Zetsu is really the manifestation of Madara’s will and not Kaguya’s sleeper agent and the White Zetsu are side effects of Madara’s experimentation on Hashirama’s DNA. We’re also changing it so that Obito doesn’t approach Pein until after the Ame civil war has finished and Hanzou is dead because that honestly makes more sense -- Pein has gotten his revenge and now he can seek out his friend’s peace in a more violent way. We’re also changing it so that the actual Madara was the one to approach Yahiko years earlier via Tobi/Guruguru and was rejected, because Yahiko’s assassination and Rin’s death/Obito snapping line up to be at around the same time. We also made it so that Nagato uses sealing techniques and maybe a forgotten Uzu kekkei genkai to kill his parents’ murderers and to make the Six Paths of Pain instead of the Rinnegan -- because the reasoning behind Madara surgically implanting it in Nagato was thin at best.
> 
> The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter/Kaguya-hime is a real Japanese legend but it’s very different from the Naruto version. We merely combined the two into something that could have vaguely inspired Madara’s Moon Plan.
> 
> Just a tiny bit about genetics and why the combination that creates a specific person is so rare -- there are two main processes that contribute to this. The first is random assortment. We’ve got 46 individual chromosomes, 23 pairs of two, and eggs and sperm only have 23, one half of those pairs. You get one half of the pair from each parent. When the eggs and sperm are being made, the chromosomes are paired up in rows 1-23 so that the final cell only has the 23 chromosomes it needs, but how one pair lines up doesn’t affect how the other pairs line up. This means that there are 2^23 different possible combinations from that process alone! Then there’s a second process, which is crossing over. When the chromosomes are lining up to get separated to make eggs/sperm, they’re pretty floppy, and they can tangle up like noodles. However, when they tangle up, some of the genes can switch between that pair. So instead of having a pure maternal chromosome and a pure paternal chromosome, you get patchwork chromosomes with totally new combinations. All of this together means that the odds of getting any specific gene combination by chance is infinitesimally tiny. When you add in things like in vitro, and some of the handwavey science we’ve got for how Danzo used Obito’s genes? Basically, there is no guaranteed process that would make Kouichi’s existence possible in Obito’s perfect world. And there’s our foray back into our genetics classes! 
> 
> Whew! Long author’s notes, thanks for reading and we’ll be back soon!


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